


Cards

by LoverofPungentSatans



Category: Original Work
Genre: A Mark nerd, AGH, AKA nosebleeds, Agender characters (pretty much all imps), But it's not that bad really, Dosebeeds, Dumm is also very easy to write, Dumm is so much fun to write, Flufferboi's name comes from a comic, Grumpy Lyndon, I Can't Think, I am slightly embarrased by these earlier chapters, I can't wait 'til chapter nine, I haven't quite figured her out yet, I might change it later, I really need to work on the imps' characters, I'm excited for that one, I'm one too, I'm posting this instead of sleeping, I've gotta get my stuff together on this one, Imps - Freeform, Imps can transform, It's awesome, It's not too cuss-y, Jabberwocky will make an appearance at some point, Like "crap" and stuff, Lyndon is a nerd, Lyndon is actually pretty respectful even though he's grumpy about it, Lyndon is also homesick, Marks - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Please don't yell at me though, SO, Schools that aren't very useful, She talks a lot in chp9, Short chapters (sorry), Speaking of I gotta work on that, Swearing, Tags are pretty fun actually, Tell me what you think, The Twins are very energetic, Until I run out of ready chapters at least, We get some world-building stuff in chp9, What am I supposed to say now, Will update every Sunday, World building yo, You can pretty much assume every imp is genderless, and he thinks that will happen with romance, and what I'm posting, god-like anyway, grandpa wants Lyndon to be happy, heavily inspired by other works inspired by Alice in Wonderland, if that makes sense, it's hard to type on this computer, it's weird - Freeform, like the stars, more explanation on the other countries, oh yeah there's a god figure, read this please, schools, she's like, small swearing, the Magic Dog speaks, there's more people now, there's this weird disconnect between what I'm writing, they didn't know, they don't stay in a fixed position, they're different, this bundle of energy that is amazing and goofy and fun, though not by much, what am I missing, yay, yay again, yeesh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-03 05:18:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10960500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoverofPungentSatans/pseuds/LoverofPungentSatans
Summary: There are four known kingdoms in the Looking Glass Domains, each representing one suit from a human card deck; Diamonds, Clubs, Hearts and Spades. Each kingdom plays a part in ensuring that the Domains run smoothly, that human Nightmares do not get past the borders and that everyone can survive. It may not satisfy everyone, but it is better than dying at the claws of Jabberwocky dreamt up by fearful humans.However, a Spade Queen is dreaming of overthrowing this order, of ruling both the Domains and the Jabberwocky and draining the human world of all its magic to take for her own cruel use. She knows residents of the Domains depend on human magic, that they need it to live - but she also knows it can be used for something much, much more sinister.Lyndon, a teen from the Spade kingdom, is next in line for a crown along with reluctant friend Pax, who also hails from Spade kingdom. Together, they must unravel this treachery and keep their world from being overthrown.





	1. Cursed Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Hello, you, person who decided to read this. Just as a forewarning, as of Sunday, May 21st, 2017, these chapters are still in their first draft forms. Somday, they will be edited into second drafts, and then into third, yada yada. The chapters are also all unedited! I'm slightly nervous with this being my first work here, but hey, you gotta start somewhere, right?
> 
> Anyway. I hope you like what you read :D Also, holy crap, I actually got a half-decent description in there.

Lyndon stared up at the sky, right hand outstretched upwards. He was a pale boy, with eye-catching, startling white hair, making his skin look even paler. Wind ruffled his hair, whooshing through his clothes. Behind him, a building loomed over his form, intimidating everyone but him. He could hear whispers behind him, could hear that the students of the school building thought he was strange, cursed. But honestly, he didn’t really care. He had nothing to do with them; they had nothing to do with him. Simple. He closed his eyes and lay back with a sigh, letting his arm flop to the ground. He was 15, and next month he would be turning 16. He figured that was long enough to find a way to get out of the Diamond Kingdom’s most prestigious school — unimaginatively and _maybe_ appropriately named Diamond Academy.  
    “One more week,” He whispered, barely mouthing the words. One more week until he could finally ditch this place and go back home.  
    “Hey,” A voice said as a closer shadow fell over him. Lyndon looked up into the miffed face of Pax Anselm, the school’s male pride and joy. Incidentally, or maybe even because of it, he hated Lyndon’s guts.  
    “Oh, it’s you,” Lyndon said, rolling over. “What? Did I say something wrong to a friend of yours again? Sorry.”  
    A sigh escaped from the lips of Lyndon’s upperclassman. “You were supposed to be at the student council meeting. As the only two Spade students here, we have a responsibility to help our kingdom get a good reputation.”  
    “Well,” Lyndon grunted, giving up on Pax going away any time soon and standing up. “It’s not like my presence is gonna make a difference in how they think of me. Also, I forgot.”  
    “While doing what?” The frown in Pax’s voice was obvious. “Day dreaming?”  
    Lyndon rolled his eyes. He hadn’t — but why should this jerk get to know that? “Yup. My day dreams are very important, you know — the world might fall apart if I don’t go back to them at least every three hours.”  
    Before Pax could get in a snappy and no doubt witty remark, Lyndon tapped a finger to his mouth. “What does it matter?” he sighed. “You hate me. I hate you. Why can’t we just leave each other alone?” He turned, his hand slipping from Pax’s lips and started walking away.  
    “Hey!” Pax called after him. “School’s not over y—”  
    The bell rang. Lyndon threw a smirk over his shoulder and kept going. His smile faded as he passed three girls though; two first years and a third year.  
    “Do you see him, with the spades in his pupils?” One of them, the third year, whispered, edging away from him.  
    “Yeah,” Another said, the second first year nodding along with her.  
    “He’s cursed, isn’t he?”  
    “Yeah, I heard that if you say his name, you’ll die.”  
    “No way! Really? That can’t be true.”  
    “It can! A fourth year found out his name a few weeks ago and she hasn’t come back since!”  
    They yelped and scuttled off when he glared in their direction. He hadn’t killed the girl they were talking about; for all he knew, she may as well have not existed before Pax sent him to get some papers for the student council. He was cursed — just not the way they thought.  
     _But how could they know?_ He asked himself, tired. As soon as he reached his dorm room he collapsed onto the bed and allowed all the bravado of the evening to fall away from him.  
    “Haah . . .” He sighed, exhaling into the pillows. He rolled over, not bothering to take off the jacket his grandfather had insisted he take, covering his eyes with an arm. “It’s gonna be worth it,” he told himself. “It’ll all be worth the stupid pod people. It’ll be worth having to deal with Pax Anselm. It’s. Gonna. Be. _Worth it.”_  
    He didn’t manage to convince himself. But he went through his end of day routine without any differences; changing clothes, brushing his teeth and washing his face, turning on the music.  
     _Tomorrow,_ he thought, yawning hugely. _Tomorrow is another day . . . of acting. Yippee._  
     _What are you so down about?_  
    Lyndon opened his eyes, frowning. The owner of that voice only showed up when they felt it was necessary — in other words, much too often.  
    “What do you want, Kaolin?” Lyndon asked resignedly.  
    Kaolin, or Lin as they liked to be called, cackled. _What’s wrong with wanting to check up on my buddy?_ A small cloud of smoke swirled above Lyndon’s head, solidifying into the body of an imp. Lin’s eyes were blue, set in a black fur-covered head. The black fur extended past the head, although it faded to dark red at the tips of the thin, droopy ears, thin tail, hands and feet, and the same red colored the insides of their wings. Horns extended past the back of their head, more for decoration than defense. A small spade patch of green, the same green as Lyndon’s eyes, covered part of Lin’s chest. Their mouth never moved when they talked, but it was always set in this mischievous smile, like Lin had something up their sleeve for you you didn’t want to find out about. _Seriously, Lyn. . . . What’s up with you?_  
    Lyndon shot a glare at the imp. Lin, the first time they’d heard Lyndon’s name, had burst out laughing. _We’re both Lins!_ They’d chortled. From then on, they’d made a point of using the first half of Lyndon’s name.  
    “None of your business, Lin,” he said, rolling over and pulling the blankets over his head.  
     _Aw, don’t be that way! You know I’m always here to help._  
    Lyndon snorted. “‘Help’ as in torture me?”  
     _That’s putting it so harshly. I prefer ‘messing around with.’_  
    Lyndon threw off the covers and turned to glare at the creature. Lin just stared back, that creepy smile fixed on their face. “Whatever,” Lyndon mumbled after a while of the staring contest. He turned back around and closed his eyes, telling himself to go to sleep. It’d be better — slightly if not completely — in the morning.  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
“Pax!”  
    It was the end of the next day, and Lyndon and Pax had argued again. Pax turned at the sound of a girl calling his name. “Hey, Lori.” Loraine Clemence, his four-year younger cousin ran up to him. Unlike Pax, Lori was a Heart. The Mark that showed her lineage was on her cheek, an outline of a faded red heart. Swirls ran rampant inside it, although they were colored white. Pax’s Mark was huge, a green Spade covering the majority of his chest. The outline of dozens of clocks were inside it (along with one bigger one in the middle), although Pax had never been able to figure out why. “What’s up?”  
    Lori grinned at him jubilantly. “ImadethepartImadethepartImadethepartImadethepart!!” She said so breathlessly Pax had trouble figuring out what she was saying. She jumped around like a hyper active monkey, waving her arms and repeating her words in a singsong tone.  
    “Whoa, wait!” Pax said, laughing at her enthusiasm. “What part did you get, and for what?”  
    She huffed, planting her hands on her hips as she halted in her twirling. Her whole posture, as well as her words, said “You should already know this!” Pax held up his hands in defense as she continued. “I told you weeks ago — I tried out for The Three Dragons to play the part of the gardner! Weren’t you listening?”  
    “Oh . . .” Pax searched his memory. He vaguely remembered her talking about a play that she was excited about, but there had been a fight in the student council earlier and he’d been busy trying to figure out how to get them to make up. “Yeah, kinda. I was a little busy at the time.”  
    She glared at him for a second. Then she smiled and shrugged, her earlier bouncyness back in full swing. “Well, it’s okay. As long as you’ll come see it, I don’t mind if you forgot!” She danced around, singing “I got the part, I did, I got the part, I did!” Pax smiled at her, shaking his head. A vibration in his pocket made him jump, before realizing it was his phone.  
    “Hello?” He said, turning away from his cousin.  
    “Pax?” A voice said on the other side of the line. Pax frowned. It sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it . . . “Could I talk to you after school next week? Behind the dining hall.”  
    “Sure?” Pax said, still trying to figure out who it was. “Who am I talking to—?”  
    They hung up. Pax frowned, lowering his phone and staring at it.  
    “Who was that?” Lori asked, coming over and peering at him.  
    “Don’t know,” he told her, putting it back in his pocket. He stood there for a second, thinking. “Listen, Lori, I gotta go,” He suddenly said hastily, hugging her quickly before slinging his bag over his shoulder and making his escape. “Congrats on the part!” He called behind him as he ran to the boys’ dorm.  
    Lori stared after him, completely still for the first time since running up to him. “What was that about?” She wondered, tilting her head.  
    Pax burst into his room, vacant of a room mate. He stood there for a minute or so, the door shut behind him, panting with his hands on his knees. When his breath calmed down, he straightened and walked into the room. A misty shape whorled above him, settling into the impish form of Esmund. Esmund’s black fur glimmered, a by-product of their constant grooming, the green spade on their chest and red-tipped hands, wings, tail, and feet shining.  
    “Why’d you call me on the phone?” Pax asked, a frown on his face.  
     _What do you mean, love?_ Pax glared at the imp’s chosen nickname for him. _I’ve been in here a~ll day, and you know there’s no other phone in here besides your cell._ Ezzie turned so he was floating in mid-air on his back, a lazy smile on their face.  
    “But that . . .” Pax hesitated. “When someone called me just now, it sounded like you.”  
    Ezzie looked at Pax questioningly. _How do you mean?_  
    “Exactly what I just said.” Pax paced around, thinking. “whoever it was managed to mimic your voice exactly.” Pax stopped and looked at the imp. “Are you sure you didn’t leave and call me?”  
    The imp shook their head, palms up. _Like I said, love, been in here all day._ Then they froze, the smile on their face disappearing.  
    “Es . . . ?” Pax asked, uncertainly. He’d never seen the imp act this way before; they’d always had a smile on his face and flown around while saying everything in a mocking manner. “What is it?”  
     _An awakening._  
    Pax blinked. “Huh?”  
    Then the pain hit him.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Lyndon gasped for breath, clutching his chest. It was hard to breathe, like his lungs were being crushed by a huge invisible hand, and he felt like someone was stabbing his eyes with lava-hot blades. It was all he could do to keep from screaming.  
     _Lyndon, breathe!_ For once, the imp’s tone wasn’t mocking or dangerous, but worried. _The hell — you weren’t supposed to Wake yet!_  
    “Wake . . . ?” Lyndon managed before he had to double over. He’d fallen out of bed, kneeling now. He’d gotten up to close his window when the pain hit him — intense pain, like he actually was cursed the way everyone thought. A keening sound escaped his throat, pain escalating behind his eyes.  
   _Lyndon!_ Lin snapped, shaking his shoulder. _Look at me — HEY!_  
    Lyndon choked. Then, just as suddenly as the pain had attacked him, it was gone. He stayed there for a while, breathing heavily.  
     _Lyndon?_ Lin asked, the ever-present smile gone. _You good?_  
    “What . . .” Lyndon shook his head. His ears were ringing. “What just happened?”  
     _Go look in a mirror. Ah, this might be a little harder to hide then the normal Awakening . . . ._  
    Frowning at the imp’s cryptic words, Lyndon stood and went over to the vanity his sister had sent him (why a vanity, Lyndon wasn’t sure. But he’d always had a fascination with mirrors, so he didn’t complain). Lin flicked on the lamp, flooding Lyndon’s room with yellow light. Lyndon’s eyes widened, making the difference even more noticeable. The spades in his eyes had . . . changed. Before, they were only outlines of spades lying over his pupils (yes, he could see just fine, thank you very much), so they didn’t immediately pop out at you. But now they were filled in, completely covering the pupils with green swirls and clocks coming together to form a Q. It was kind of pretty, to be honest, but then Lyndon realized they were so much easier to see from a stranger’s viewpoint.  
    “What happened to them?” Lyndon demanded, turning from the mirror to face the imp.  
     _Have you ever met someone who held a Face Card title?_  
    Lyndon blinked, frowning. “What? No. But what does that have to do with—”  
     _You have one of those titles now._ Lin’s face was solemn, the smile still not there. _What just happened — with your eyes, with the pain — that was an Awakening._  
    Lyndon stared as the meaning of the imp’s words slowly sank in.  
     _Lyndon._ The imp sank to the floor, wings limp at their back, and bowed low. Nothing about their body language suggested a prank. _You’re the Queen of Spades. All hail the new Queen._


	2. Class Should be in Session

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Classssss. Hiss.  
> Actually, I wouldn't know if "hiss" is how I would react, I've never been to this kind of classroom.  
> Okay then, Classmatessss. Hiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I considered posting this early, because fuck it, but then I figured I'd get really confused when next Sunday rolls around, so I decided against it. Here, have this thing while I try and figure out how to write more.

The next day, Pax ran from his dorm room to the school. He’d overslept, courtesy of the Awakening last night that Esmund had refused to clarify.  
     _You are the new King of Spades,_ was all they had said, and then they’d clamped their mouth — metaphorically speaking. They _had_ actually said something else, but Pax didn’t really think about it. He was too busy worrying about how he was on the student council and he had to get there before the bell rang or—  
    He crashed into someone just as they opened the gates of the school. The two of them sprawled on the ground, a tangle of limbs and curses. Other late students stepped around them, not bothering to help as they rushed to be on time.  
    “Wait a— Ow! Just — hey — STOP MOVING!” The person under Pax yelled. Pax froze while the boy under him (or he assumed it was a boy by his voice) worked on untangling himself from Pax.  
    Freed, they both stood up and brushed themselves off.  
    “Sorry about that,” Pax apologized while patting his legs. “I didn’t see you until I was right on top of you, honestly.” He looked down and his eyes widened.  
    “It’s fine.” The other boy started to turn, but Pax grabbed his arm.  
    “Your leg is bleeding,” he said firmly. “So it’s _not_ fine. Come on, we’re going to the—”  
    The boy yanked his arm from Pax’s hand. “I said, it’s _fine!_ Just leave me alone, all right?” Pax frowned and grabbed him again, yanking him around.  
    “I don’t know about you,” he said slowly, “but I don’t qualify _bleeding,_ no matter how lightly, as ‘fine.’” The boy looked away, trying not to look at Pax. So of course, Pax had to see who it was. He yanked him around, hard enough to make him look up. Pax caught his breath.  
    “Russe—”  
    “Shh!” Lyndon hissed, covering Pax’s mouth with a hand and looking around. “I’m trying to keep this — this—” He struggled to find the right words. _“Thing,”_ he finally burst out, “from being noticed by too many people!”  
    “But your eyes—” Pax said, his voice muffled by Lyndon’s hand.  
     _Don’t question him, love. He’s already been shunned enough by everyone else, he doesn’t need any more attention on him._  
    Pax jumped as Ezzie’s voice sounded in his head. He stood uncertainly for a moment before ducking away from Lyndon’s hand tugging him (protesting loudly) to the school. This made no _sense!_ He had to talk to Lyndon; had to find out more about the Awakening and what was going on.  
    “Pax?” Lyndon sounded alarmed as he was pulled by the older Spade through the halls. “Hey! where are we going? Pax!”  
    The bell had rung, but Pax wasn’t necessarily worried about it anymore. He wanted answers. And if Lyndon had them, then he would get them out of Lyndon. He jerked open a door to an empty room, doubly checking that it was, in fact, empty.  
    “Pax!” Lyndon demanded. “What is this about?”  
    Pax turned to him. “Your eyes,” He said hurriedly, “they changed. Before they just had the outline of spades in them, but now they’re all filled in. Why? You Awakened too, didn’t you?”  
    Lyndon flinched. “How the _hell_ did you—”  
     _Freedom!_ A voice said, making them both jump. _Ahh, do you know how long it’s been since I got to fly around outside of your room?_  
    An imp formed above Lyndon’s head and Pax’s jaw dropped in shock. It was the same as Esmund—  
     _I know!_ Esmund agreed, forming above Pax’s head as well. _I haven’t been able to leave the side of this kid since he was born!_ Ezzie tapped Pax’s head reproachfully. _You could’ve let me out at least a little, love, an imp needs space!_  
    “Wait.” Pax said, a little dazed. “What’s going on?”  
    Lyndon was staring at him in shock, his strange eyes wide, making the filled-in dark green spades stand out even more. “You have one too?” He asked, his expression changing from openly surprised to guarded.  
     _How rude, Lyn,_ The imp above Lyndon sniffed, a smile on their face contradicting his tone. _We’re not toys to collect._  
    “Don’t I know it,” Pax heard Lyndon mutter.  
    “Your imp calls you Lyn?” Pax was a little shell-shocked, so his mind grasped onto something mundane. Ish. Lyndon and the imp turned to glare at him simultaneously, the motion looking almost practiced.  
     _“This is none of your business,”_ they snapped at the same time. It was a little funny.  
    Pax turned to Esmund. “Do you know them?” He asked, ignoring their bickering. Ezzie nodded, grinning even more than usual.  
     _Oh, I don’t know them. I_ know _them. We’re siblings; how could I not?_  
    Pax stood there stunned for a second. Then he shook his head. “You know what?” He said, sitting down on a nearby chair. “Finish the insanity. Then can we talk about the stupid Awakening thing? Please?”  
    “Yeah,” Lyndon said angrily. “You never said anything past I’m ‘the Queen of Spades.’ The hell did you mean by that?”  
    Pax blinked. “You’re the Queen?”  
    “Yes. Apparently.” Lyndon said, glaring at him. “Is there something wrong with that?”  
    “Um . . .” Pax paused, Lyndon taking the oppurtunity to glare even harder. “Nope. Not really.”  
     _It’s not our place to explain Awakening, loves,_ Esmund said breezily, holding their hands palm up and shaking their head as they shrugged. _You’ll have to wait for the others._  
    “Others?” Pax asked. The imps nodded simultaneously.  
     _You didn’t think there was only the King and Queen, did you?_ Majesty? The imp above Lyndon asked, emphasizing ‘majesty.’ As if they knew.  
    “What are you—” Lyndon started before the door burst open.  
    “Alright, you two!” A teacher with a British accent slammed open the door, an angry expression on her face. “Why, exactly, aren’t—” She caught sight of the imps and faltered. “Oh. Good reason.”  
    “What?” Lyndon demanded. _“What’s_ a good reason?”  
    The teacher, Ms. Shelton, stood there for a moment, two first year students peering in from behind her. Pax heard a tsking sound from Lyndon and wondered if he recognized them. “Come with me,” Ms. Shelton said eventually.  
     _She would be someone to tell you,_ Esmund said helpfully, flapping around Pax’s head. _She_ is _a teacher, love._  
    “Thank you, Commander Obvious.”  
    Pax, Lyndon, and the imps followed Ms. Shelton out of the room, the two first years trotting behind until she told them to scram to their own classes.  
    “I normally only teach fifth to eighth years,” she told the two confused Spades, “but you two I will take on as an exception. I wasn’t here the last time a King and Queen Awakened so early, but I’ve seen one before.”  
    Pax and Lyndon exchanged glances. “How did you know we’re . . . Face Cards?” Lyndon said carefully.  
    “The imps, of course,” Ms. Shelton said breezily. “Only teachers and other face Cards can see them, unless of course they wish to be seen.” She glaced back. “The imp above your head, Pax, are they not named Esmund?”  
    Pax stopped in his tracks. “How did you — Yeah. That’s their name.” He didn’t bother asking how the teacher knew how the imp had never given a specific gender.  
     _Don’t you forget it!_ Ezzie sang, looping around their heads.  
    “And Kaolin over there, that is their name?”  
     _Lovely to be recognized, Lady!_ Kaolin grinned and tipped an imaginary hat to Ms. Shelton. _However, ‘Kaolin’ sounds so formal and . . . out of character._ Lyndon snorted at this, Kaolin whacking him in retaliation. _I would prefer you just say ‘Lin.’ Goes to you, too, Majesty._  
    “Alright,” Pax said uncertainly, having hurried to catch up with them. “‘Scuse me, Ms. Shelton, but where are we going?”  
    “My classroom. Where else?”  
    Both Pax and Lyndon halted in their tracks at this. She had to turn around and glare at them so they would start walking again.  
    “Um, we’re not supposed to be up here,” Pax said cautiously as they stepped up the stairs that led to the second floor — the floor where the second half of the student body went to classes.  
    Ms. Shelton snorted. “Didn’t you hear me earlier? I said I would take you two on as exceptions.” Pax and Lyndon looked at each other, confused. “You two have Awakened. I doubt the classes on the first floor will give you an adequate education on the subject; It usually isn’t delved into in any real detail until the beggining of your sixth year.” She stopped, turning to face them. Her face softened. “I’m sorry it didn’t happen later, Mr. Russell.” Lyndon flinched. “Rumored to be cursed and now you’ve awakened as a Queen? That can’t be easy.”  
    “I don’t need your pity,” Lyndon snapped, his expression guarded and angry.  
    “Mm.” Ms. Shelton stared him down and turned again. They followed her down a hallway, a confusing maze of doors not unlike Hogwarts in _Harry Potter._ Finally she opened the door to an amphitheater-like room, filled with kids scattered here and there.  
    “Good mornig, class!” Ms. Shelton said briskly. “Apologies for the late start. I had to bring in some . . . different students.” Pax and Lyndon filed in behind her, Pax nervously fingering the hem of his scarf. “These two have just Awakened as the King and Queen of the Spade Kingdom. As such, I will take the education of these young men into my hands and not . . .” She paused and sniffed disdainfully. “The teachers downstairs.” The students all giggled or chuckled at this. Apparently Ms. Shelton’s dissaproval of the first to fourth year teachers was not a secret. “Students, Pax Anselm and Lyndon Russell. Pax Anselm and Lyndon Russell, students. 16 and 15, respectively, although both are close to turning the year. I expect you all to get along,” she shot the last comment at a pair of boys lounging near the back, “and to introduce yourselves individually later. Alright you two, take your seats. Anywhere is alright.  
    “Today, we’ll be speaking about the genes that are Marks. Who can tell me what your Mark means?”  
    A hand shot up, belonging to a girl with freckles, her hair in a braided ponytail and a Diamond Mark on her cheek — filled in completely, a two curving inside it. “Miss Shaw?” Ms. Shelton asked.  
    “Your Mark shows what Suit Country you come from,” the girl answered, sounding smart and calm. “Clubs, Diamonds, Hearts and Spades. But more than showing your home, they can give you certain . . . atributes.”  
    “Such as?” Ms. Shelton prompted. This time, the hand that went up was Lyndon’s. “Go on, Mr. Russell.”  
    “It varies, depending on the person,” Lyndon reported. “It also depends on what country you’re from; for example, if you’re from the country of Diamonds, then the enhanced abilities your Mark gives will most likely gravitate to things like earthwork, or theatric jobs like acting, singing, or acrobatics. And if you’re a Club, but you’ve been raised in the country of Diamonds, then the same holds true for you.”  
    Ms. Shelton smiled, a glint of pleasure in her eyes. “Correct, Mr. Russell. I do enjoy it when the new kids have answers, don’t you, class?”  
    The girl with braids tsked, leaning back in her seat. Lyndon shot a glance her way, then sat down. Pax stared at him, a little open mouthed.  
    “What?” Lyndon muttered.  
    “I didn’t know you had all that stuff in your head,” Pax said out of the corner of his mouth, impressed. “Where’d you learn it?”  
    Lyndon looked away. “I’ll . . . tell you later,” he mumbled, turning to Ms. Shelton.  
    “Another example of the abilities different country Marks give you, Clubs, such as me,” she held up her wrist — a yellow club, swirls dancing inside it to form the number six. “are more likely to have jobs such as teaching, banking, math, secretaries, domestic jobs such as those. Diamonds, as Mr. Russell explained, are more likely to go for the flashy things, such as stage work to draw in audiences. Hearts will almost always have abilities related to health, no matter where they are raised. Doctors, surgeons, etc. Spades’ abilities, like Hearts’, are unique to them; time.”  
    All eyes turned to Pax and Lyndon. Lyndon stared back defiantly, not seeming to care. Pax tried to copy him, but he wasn’t sure they fell for it.  
    “Many scientists have attempted to figure out why Spade abilities cannot be replicated by any other Suit, unlike Hearts’ where it is rare but not unheard of.” Ms. Shelton continued, bringing up a poster of the four Suits on a big screen behind her. Each was colored acording to the schemes Pax had seen so far; Yellow Club, green Spade, pinkish-reddish Heart, and blue Diamond. He glanced over at Lyndon; for the first time since he’d met him, Lyndon Russell was actually paying attention — _rapt_ attention — to what was being said. It was a little unsettling. “Moving on, how do these Marks show up? Anyone?”  
    No one volunteered. Pax heard Lyndon sigh just before he raised his hand again. “Scientists have been studying the Marks of different Suits for generations, and they still can’t quite figure it out. The best working theory right now that doesn’t challenge scientific laws is that there’s something in the soil or food in seperate lands that makes them show up on your skin. When you go through puberty, the Mark changes, and they haven’t yet been able to figure that out without going against logic, or why Marks give us these abilities. As of now, there is no working theory for it.”  
    Ms. smiled again. “Correct, Mr. Russell. May I ask why you know this with such detail?”  
    “I . . .” Lyndon hesitated. “My eyes.” The class murmured, craning their necks to get a look at him. Their stares and piqued interest made him blush, but he didn’t back down.  
    “Yes,” Ms. Shelton noted. “The spades in your eyes are your Mark, no?”  
    Lyndon nodded. “I always ha— I didn’t like the reactions other people would have when they saw them,” He said, looking at his hands. “I thought maybe I could take them out if I looked hard enough for an answer, so . . . . That’s why.”  
    Pax stared at Lyndon, feeling guilty. He himself had wondered if Lyndon Russell, the pale hermit boy was cursed, but then he’d spent time running after him. There was no way a boy that snarky was cursed — didn’t go with what Pax had been taught. But still . . . .  
    Lyndon caught his look and glared. _“I don’t need your pity.”_ He mouthed, turning back to Ms. Shelton.  
    “Why didn’t you just wear contacts?” The girl with the ponytail asked. She was twirling her hair around a finger, lazing back in her seat. “It’s not like they weren’t invented after you were born.”  
    Lyndon shot a glare in her diretion. “I can’t wear contacts,” he said tightly. “Tried. Didn’t work.”  
    She smirked, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Too bad,” she said in a fakely concerned  sing-song voice.  
    “Miss Shaw.” Ms. Shelton warned. “You do remember what happened the last time this went out of hand . . . ?”  
    Shaw paled and sat up straighter. “Yes, Ma’am.”  
    Lyndon frowned at Pax uncertainly. Pax shrugged, as clueless as the other boy. He blinked as he realized neither of the imps had said anything throughout the duration of class. Where were they? He looked around, not seeing them.  
    “What about Awakening?”  
    Pax looked over at a boy, maybe eight- or nineteen. He had a filled in Mark on his cheek too — a Heart. Pax caught his breath. That looked like —  
    “Mr. Agapios, I’m getting there,” Ms. Shelton said calmly. “I see your interest, Mr. Anselm. Yes, you and Mr. Agapios of the hard-to-pronounce-last-name are both Kings. Who in here can tell me the age of the youngest King to Awaken recorded as of yet?”  
    A few hands went up. Another boy, freckles marching across his face so it looked like he had chicken pox, answered. “Diamond King, Boris Talbot. He Awoke at the age of 17, and some people speculate that was why his reign was so chaotic and violent.” He sat back down, pushing his pale brown hair out of his eyes with a self-satisfied expression.  
    “Incorrect.”  
    The kid frowned. “But—”  
    “As of now, the youngest recorded King is Mr. Anselm.” Ms. Shelton said, tapping her fingers against each other. “I did tell you their ages, did I not? Pax Anselm is sixteen, his seventeenth birthday in two weeks.” She tilted her head. “As soon as a teacher of the Club Suit is made aware of an awakening, or in this case five, the knowledge is automatically sent to the current Face Cards.”  
    Pax blinked. Five? That meant there were two more besides him, Lyndon, and the Heart King. Who were they?  
    He didn’t have time to get an answer, as the bell rang just before he could open his mouth.  
    “Ah, you see what happens when the teacher is late?” Ms. Shelton sighed. “Well, you can all disappear and relocate to your next class now. Oh, and by no means does this signify that the rest of you may come in late from now on,” She said sternly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wargh. I sleepy, I'm goin' to bed now.
> 
> Comments are love!


	3. Talking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just . . . talking. that's kind of it. I mean, it's talking with bullies, and Lin gets an upgrade, but. Yeah. I think this might actually be my least favorite first-draft chapter so far. Something to keep in mind for draft two, then, huh?
> 
> Apologies for typos, I seem to consistently be posting this at midnight for some reason? Like why am I such a tired idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be perfectly honest with you guys, I have forgotten why Josh is here. I'll have to find my paper notes somewhere, if I haven't lost them permanently, but I'm pretty sure Josh and his gang won't be showing up again at any time . . . so. *shrugs* Whatever. I guess he's there mostly to highlight the new thing Kaolin can do? In any case, happy reading.

Lyndon trudged from the teachers’ room, deep in thought. Ms. Shelton had pulled both him and Pax aside to give them a layout of how they would go about their classes from now on. They would go to her class for lessons about their Awakening, as well as topics related to Marks. But after Pax had left, she’d held him back.  
    “Be honest with me, Lyn,” she’d said, droppping all pretenses of formality. “How are you? Really? Your family is worried.”  
    Lyn snorted. “I doubt it. Nanil and Gigi I can see thinking about me, but my parents?” He looked away. “I don’t think they ever saw me as anything other than a burden.”  
    “What about your older siblings?” Ms. Shelton said softly.  
    Lyn looked at her, straight and bleak. “They’re dead, Yannick. They can’t think anything about me.”  
    “Lyn . . .” Yannick Shelton stood up and hugged him. “I’m sorry they’re such idiots.”  
    “It’s — well, it’s not okay, but it is.” Lyn said, patting her back and burying his face in her sweater. “I’m used to it.”  
    They stood there for a while, alone in comforting silence. Then Lyn stepped away, smiling sadly. “I should go,” he said. “Good act, by the way. Although I’m not sure what you were getting at by mentioning my eyes.”  
    Yannick smiled. “You need to learn that you aren’t a mistake. Just because you have Marks in your eyes doesn’t mean something went wrong with you at birth.” She brushed Lyn’s cheek with her thumb, rubbing over a smudge of dirt. “Your parents don’t see this, but you are your own beautiful person. Don’t let anyone say otherwise — not even yourself,” She said sternly. Then she pushed him away to the door. “Go on, Mr. Russell,” She said teasingly. “Disappear and relocate.”  
  
_Where do you think his Majesty is?_ Lin asked, materalizing over Lyndon’s head as soon as they were out the door. _I’d love to see Ezzie dear again. It’s been ages — Imps always need to have proper reunions!_  
    Lyndon glared at him. “How should I know?” He asked irritably. “I don’t keep him in my pocket.”  
    “Hey, Russell!”  
    Lyndon turned to see who it was. The three boys Ms. Shelton had glared at were walking up to him, smirks on their faces. He got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach; those smiles really didn’t seem like something preceding a friendly greeting. “Yeah?” He said cautiously.  
    The boy in front grinned, like he knew he’d intimadated Lyndon. “You’re the new Spade queen, right?” He asked in a voice so false it made Lyndon’s teeth hurt. He nodded, clenching his hands in his pockets. “I thought so,” the guy said with satisfaction. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Lyndon Russell; I’m Josiah, but my friends call me Josh.” His smile got a little creepier, like he beat up kids who walked across his path for no good reason — other than pure, twisted enjoyment. “I _do_ hope we can be friends, Lyndon.”  
    “Yeah . . .” Lyndon started backing away. “Um, listen, I should go. Studies downstairs and whatnot — Hey!”  
    Josiah grabbed his hair, yanking him back as he was turning to beat a hasty retreat. “Where do you think you’re going?” He sneered into Lyndon’s face. “We’re not done talking to you.”  
     _GET AWAY FROM LYN!_ Lin screeched, arrowing towards Josiah’s head out of nowhere — and passed right through him. _Right,_ they muttered. _Can’t see me. Can’t touch me. Let’s try again._  
    They turned and flew straight up, their form changing as they did. _Unless you want your souls ripped apart . . ._ They growled, their voice changing from childish to powerful and gruff. The boys whirled around, looking for the voice with panicked expressions. _I suggest you let go of His Majesty._  
    Lyndon gulped. If he hadn’t seen the transformation, he would’ve run for it like Josiah and his group were too scared to do. Kaolin looked less like a black, fuzzy plushie now and more like a Nightmare beast. Their wings were tinged with red, like usual, only it looked as if the red was dripping — like sticky blood. Their whole body had grown, distorted enough that Lyndon could barely recognize them. Huge fangs, dripping with something wet and goopy-looking that Lyndon didn't want to go _anywhere_ near, were ranged around Kaolin’s openly hissing mouth. Their hands, curled into grasping claws, were so blood-red it felt to Lyndon like they’d been washing his hands with the stuff.  
    Slowly, Josiah stepped back, terrified. Lyndon twisted himself out of the older boy’s now-loose grip, turning to face them. “Well,” he said almost cheerfully, “I do hope we can be firends after this, don’t you . . . Josh?” Josiah made a squeaky sound that didn’t really go with his appearence. “Anyway, gotta go,” Lyndon said breezily. “Like I said, with the classes downstairs and everything. Thanks, Kaolin.”  
    Kaolin gave a grim, pleased smile, but stayed above them. It was only after Lyndon made it all the way down the stairs that they dropped the pretense.  
     _Did you see their faces??_ They cackled, zooming around Lyndon’s head like an over-caffeinated bat. _That was_ priceless! _Ah, man, they’ll be extra careful around you from now on._ They burst into giggles again. _Their faces . . . ._  
    “That was really funny,” Lyndon agreed. “But have you always been able to do that? ‘Cause that would’ve been really useful in some of those . . . other schools.”  
    Lin shook their head. _I don’t think so, pal. It just felt like a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing, and that’s never really happened before._  
    “Yeah,” Lyndon mused. “All the other times they would just laugh when they saw you.”  
     _That’s uncalled for,_ Lin sniffed. _Well, see ya._  
    “Where are you going?” Lin disappeared without saying anything, just the smell of sulfur left behind. “Jerk,” Lyndon muttered. He blinked as a thought occured to him and checked his watch. “Crap!” He yelped as he saw the time; the class he hated missing was nearly over. He didn’t hate missing because of the teacher; far from it, he would’ve stayed galaxies away if he’d had the choice. No, he hated being late because of what the teacher might do to him. He took off at a run, shuddering as he remembered what had happened the last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WAGH. Yey, writing class starts tomorrow! *small internal celebration* Also, I'm in the middle of writing a V;LD Klance fanfiction, so if someone were willing to beta read it, that'd be awesome.
> 
> Comments are love!


	4. Talking, Times Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exactly what it says on the tin. More talking. Except, with less . . . *shrugs* fangs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, I'm not posting this at/around midnight! It's a miracle! *throws arms up in celebration*

Pax leaned against his wall, sighing and setting the book he’d been holding aside on the floor next to him. He rubbed his eyes, wishing he could get to sleep on time for once. He’d wondered about his Mark and Awakening all through the rest of the day, to the point of going to the second floor library; the first floor one didn’t pass muster, not enough books in it. He’d been looking for materials on Marks, and he’d gotten a _lot._ His room was covered with all the books he could find on the things, and anything even remotely related. He’d always hated not knowing what was going on. This was no different. Fortunately, the second floor library was any bookworm’s paradise. _Un_ fortunately, it wasn’t enough.  
     _Gettin’ sleepy there, love?_ Ezzie circled around his head, munching on what looked like a cinnamon roll.  
    “How did you even _get_ that?” Pax asked tiredly. “And it’s none of your business, so go wherever it is you go when you disappear. Out of my hair, anyway.”  
     _Yup, sleepy. You’re only cranky like this when you’re tired. Or overworked._ The imp eyed the pile of books surrounding Pax. _Like now._  
    Pax ran his hand through his hair, making it all stand up on end. Ezzie transferred their gaze from the books to Pax, chewing contentedly. Bite? they asked, proffering the treat. Pax swatted at it. “Ew, no,” he said. “Imp slobber.”  
    Ezzie shrugged and tossd the rest of it into their mouth that had suddenly appeared. Suit yourself. _Personally I think_ imp slobber _makes it all the better; our saliva has medical properties, you know._  
    “Seriously?” Pax asked, intrigued and a little disgusted.  
     _No._  
    Pax rolled his eyes, standing up and picking his way through the mess on his floor so he could collapse face-first on the bed. Once there, he moaned, crushing his face into a pillow.  
     _Oh, come on, love,_ Esmund said, floating over. _It wasn’t that bad of a joke, was it?_  
    Pax turned to glare at the black creature through drooping eyes. “That’s not it,” he mumbled.  
     _Then what is?_  
    He sighed and flopped over. “It’s just . . .” He hesitated. He wasn’t sure Esmund would get it; the imp had never seemed to really get his emotions on a spiritual level. He turned so he was facing Ezzie and propped himself up on his elbows. “Have you ever had this feeling where you _know_ something’s off but you can’t quite put your finger on it?”  
    Esmund tilted their head. _What kind of ‘off,’ exactly?_  
    Pax frowned, trying to find the words to voice his thoughts. “Well — it’s more that something’s . . . different.” He paused, unable to formulate any coherence. “I — I don’t know. Probably nothing.” He flopped down, dropping his arms so they hung off the edge of the bed and his face was smushed into the sheets again. “Being a teenager sucks,” He mumbled.  
     _Ha!_ Ezzie crashed onto the bed next to Pax, bouncing and turning over on their back. _You think this is bad? Wait until you’re running a kingdom at 18!_  
    Pax’s only repsonse was to scream into the pillows, the bed muffling his frustrated voice.  
  
  
The next day, neither Pax nor Lyndon looked like they’d gotten any sleep. Both had dazed expressions, mussed up hair that’d been barely brushed, and dark circles under their eyes that made them look like zombie raccoons. Needless to say, they were given ginormous berths — though Lyndon was used to it, rumored to be cursed as he was, he was given even more space than usual this morning. The first person to approach them was Pax’s cousin — Loraine Clemence.  
    “Morning, Pax,” She said cheerfully, skipping circles around them. “What’s up? How come you look a raccoon zombie that’s been hypnotized to come here? Oh, why’re you hanging with Lyndon? I thought you said you hated his guts and you’d never be caught dead with him! Did something happen? What was it? Hey, why’re his eyes like that — did something _huge_ happen? What—”  
    “Lori?” Pax said, the boys stopping in their tracks. She stopped and blinked at him questioningly, a smile on her face. “Could you please not talk so loud this early?”  
    She blinked again. “But it’s only six thirty.”  
     _“Exactly,”_ Lyndon muttered. He glared at the boy beside him, adjusting the bag slung over his shoulder. “I’m only staying with him because we have an appointment with the principal.”  
    Lori gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “Oh _no!_ What did you do to get him mad? Was it his fault? Will you—”  
    “Lori.”  
    She grinned sheepishly. “Seriously though,” she continued, falling into step beside them as they started walking again. “What’s he wanna see you about?”  
    “Our Marks,” Pax said simply. She halted in her tracks, thinking.  
    “But does that mean—?” She started to call after them when another girl grabbed her arm and pulled her away, saying something about being late for dream theory. She cast a nervous glance over her shoulder as she beat a hasty retreat with Lori in tow. “I’ll meet up with you at lunch!” Lori called to Pax, waving as the other girl dragged her away.  
    “Thank Vorpal,” Lyndon muttered. “I thought she’d never shut up. Or leave.”  
    “Hey,” Pax protested. “That’s my cousin you’re bad-mouthing.”  
    “Really?” Lyndon asked, tilting his head to look at the taller boy. “Huh. Then that explains the annoying parts of her. Oh wait — that’s everything. I woder who she reminds me of?”  
    “Look, how well do you know her?” Pax asked. He took Lyndon’s silence as an invitation to continue and plowed on. “Just reserve judgement until you really interact with her, get to—”  
    “Interact?” Lyndon stopped dead in his steps for the second time that morning. _“Interact?_ Have you seen the way these people act around here?” Pax opened his mouth to say something, but Lyndon cut him off. “I’ve been shunned my entire life by everyone except Ya — you. And . . . a few other people. But you spend your days chasing me around the school! Do you really expect me to just trust people right off the bat?”  
    Pax blinked. He knew it shouldn’t, but his mind jumped to one thing in particular; “Who were the other people?” He asked slowly.  
    Lyndon flinched as if he hadn’t meant for that part to come out. “None of your business!” He snapped and sped up.  
    Pax frowned, but didn’t say anything else about it, going faster himself to catch up. Odd looks were thrown at them from eveyone — not suprising, considering they were usually seen at each other’s throats.  
  
  
Pax knocked on the door, Lyndon still sulking behind him.  
    “Come in,” A voice called from behind the door. Pax peeked in to see an old, white-bearded man sittig at a desk and reading through papers with a fed up expression. “Don’t just stand at the doorway,” he said without looking up, “come in, both of you.”  
    Pax opened the door, the boys filing in. “You wanted to talk about our Marks?” He asked, trying to ignore the waves of gloom emanating from Lyndon.  
    Finally, the man behind the desk looked up. “Yes, I did — but sit down first.”  
    “But there aren’t any—”  
    The principal rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers. Pax felt a whooshing sensation in the small of his back, like he was being pushed forward, and there was a small _pop_ as a pair of chairs appeared in front of the desk. Pax and Lyndon both slumped onto them as the feeling in Pax’s back disappeared. They sat there for a second or so, stunned into stillness.  
    “You were saying?” He asked.  
    Pax blinked. “Um, right.”  
    “I’m a Joker,” The principal said, shoving a ridiculously huge pile of papers aside to reveal a name plate that read **Andreas Ripley.** “I don’t know if you’re gotten there yet in classes, but the title of Joker only goes to two people every generation. The other in mine is my brother.” He paused to stare at Pax, chin cupped in his hand. The motion reminded Pax of someone, but he couldn’t quite remember . . . . “If I remember correctly, you two are the new Spade King and Queen, yes?” They nodded. The old man burst into a huge grin, pounding the desk with a “HA!” They jumped, startled at his exclamation. “Er . . .” He said sheepishly, noicing their expressions. He cleared his throat, sitting back down. “My apologies. I feel that the current . . . rulers . . . aren’t exactly modern, if you know what I mean.” Lyndon turned away, frowning. Pax elbowed him. “I see you do, Lyn.”  
    Lyndon flinched at Ripley’s casual use of his name. “You—” he started, but the principal cut him off.  
    “Oh, calm down. Yannick comes up here a lot for tea, she’s told me some of what she knows about you. I have to say, I’m impressed you’ve made it this far without making more enemies than Pax, here.”  
     _Yannick?_ Pax wondered, recalling the part in his conversation with Lyndon earlier; _“I’ve been shunned my entire life by everyone except Ya — you.”_ Was that the beggining of a name? He shook his head, filing it away to ask about later. “Um, back to the Marks?” He prompted.  
    “Right, sorry,” Ripley said apologetically. “Now that you’ve both Awoken as Face Cards, you’ll be rooming in a different dorm. I would suggest you choose the same room, if only because some people here aren’t as . . . supportive of Spades as I would like there to be. Safety in numbers and all that hullabaloo.” He waved his hand in a circular motion, pausing as a thought occured to him. “although _your_ numbers are depressingly small.” Again with the hand motion.  
    “with all due respect, Principal Ripley—” Lyndon started.  
    “Just Ripley, or even Andreas is fine, Lyndon. I don’t like formalities, even if they are sometimes required.”  
    “Right . . .” Lyndon continued, “With all due respect, Ripley, you _really_ want _us_ to room together?” Pax nodded in agreement, then blinked.  
    “Well, I think you’ve been getting along just fine recently,” Ripley said with a smirk that made him look much younger than he was. Pax realized with a start who the old man reminded him of; his great-uncle on his mother’s side.  
    “andreas,” He said slowly. “Andreas and Marcus Ripley?”  
    “Oh, you remember now!” Andreas said grinning. “You were so _little_ the last time I saw you, I could pick you up with ne hand!”  
    Pax blinked. “I thought that was Uncle Marcus.”  
    “Oh, it was both of us!” Andreas assured him. “Anyway, how’ve you been doing? Written back to your family, your mom? You know how much she worries about her kids.”  
    “I’ve written pretty regularly,” Pax smiled. “Every week, I send a letter back home.”  
    “Good, good!” Andreas said smiling, leaning back in his chair contentedly. He opened his mouth to say something else, but Lyndon got to it first.  
    “Didn’t you call us out here for something else?” He asked pointedly.  
    Pax and Andreas both grinned sheepishly. Andreas coughed. “Um, yes, I’ll have to ask Yannick to help me with this later so I can talk to Pax more. Back to your Marks. I’m sure you’ve noticed how unique they are.” Pax and Lyndon glanced at each other; Pax smiled weakly. Andreas continued: “We suspected something of the sort might happen with Lyndon, but we certainly weren’t expecting five Face Cards at once. The last time this many Awakened at once was . . .” he paused and tilted his head. “I believe well over two hundred years ago. Not to mention, there are the other Face Cards Awakening in the Heart and Club Kingdoms.” He tilted his head, gaze steady. “Which means that this may very well be the first time all sixteen Face Cards have Awoken at the same time.”  
    Lyndon frowned. “If this is the first time all sixteen Cards have Awoken, what about all the other times?”  
    “I can direct you to some books that might help you with the previous Awakening times, if you want,” Andreas said, still with that head tilt.  
    Lyndon nodded. He opened his mouth to say something else when a crash and a yelp outside the door made them all jump.  
    “What was—?” Pax started, half risen from his seat.  
    Lyndon didn’t say anything, just stood up, shoving his chair out of the way, and rushed out the door to see what it was. Pax and Andreas exchanged a look before following him. Standing at the door — well, sitting, really, was a girl rubbing her head.  
    “I’m _so,_ so sorry,” she apologized, jumping to a kneeling position when she noticed the group of people staring at her with concern. “I just couldn’t see where I was going with that huge pile of books in my arms, and then I bumped into the door frame because it was leaning to one side — the book pile, I mean — and I wanted to straighten it, so I thought I should tap it a little against the door, except it — the books — got too far to the other side and then I fell.”  
    She said all this while she was rooting around for the said books, not pausing once to take a proper breath. Lyndon knelt down and wordlessly started helping her pick them up, stacking them neatly in a pile to one sdie.  
    “It’s really fine, my dear,” Andrea reassured her, patting her head. “I’m sure I would have much the same problem as you in this situatiion, there’s nothing to apoogize for.”  
    She kept apologizing, anyway, bowing as best she could while on her knees. Something about her seemed . . . really familiar to Pax, like he knew her.  
    “Have we met . . . ?” He asked, his voice trailing away. She looked up, staring at him with incredibly light brown eyes — and a Mark, fully colored in, of a deep fuschia J inside a heart on her left cheek.  
    “No, I don’t think so,” She said, tilting her head with a friendly but confused smile. Lyndon glanced over with a knowing look; he’d seen it, too. “Why?”  
    Pax shook his head. “Nevermind. It’s nothing.” He held out his hand. “I’m Pax Anselm. You?”  
    “Aaliyah,” she said, smiling as she shook his hand. “Aaliyah Saab, Jack of Hearts. Lovely to meet you, Pax.”  
    “Likewise,” Pax said, feeling a little awkward. Should he have said he was the King of Spades when he’d said his name?  
     _Well,_ A voice remarked, _They don’t seem particularly up to the task, do they?  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whozzat?
> 
> Comments are love!


	5. Letters and Kings, Paintings and Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeyyyyyyy. Pretty much what the title says, though maybe not . . . advice in the traditional sense . . . ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dwop. New chapter. :D

_Dear Nanil, Gigi, and Twins. Bishop, and Rook too, I guess. How are you guys? I’m_  
    Lyndon paused, holding his pencil just above the papaer. What could he say that would encompass how he felt right then? His life was all jumbled up, and it had beeen since he’d started going to this school. No, that wasn’t true. The jumbled part had only started when he’d run into Pax Anselm. Go figure. But then there was the business about this Aaliyah person, the Jack of Hearts. And her imp. Mimi wasn’t at all like Esmund or Lin — in a very rude, inconsiderate way. As such, Lyndon had made a note to never cross female imps in his lifetime.  
    He sighed, tapping his pencil on the paper repeatedly and leaning back in his chair.  
    “What’s wrong?” Lyndon turned to the door opening and Pax coming in, followed by the two imps. Lately they’d taken to following one of them around the school, staying invisible around other students (excpet for josh and his gang; Lin liked to antagonize them a lot).  
    “none of your business,” Lyndon said, grabbing a book to cover his letter.  
     _Probably writing home,_ Lin, the traitorous snit, said, flapping over to Lyndon’s desk. _It’s what he does when he’s confu—hmphigm?_  
    “I said that it’s none of your business,” Lyndon repeated, his hand covering the imp’s mouth. How it affected Lin’s voice, Lyndon wasn’t sure, but he didn’t question it; any oppurtunity to shut the creature up was fine with him.  
    Pax raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t dispute it. “If you say so,” he said simply, walking over and flopping on his bed.  
    “I do,” Lyndon muttered, eyeing the other boy. The imps flocked over to their corner, talking about whatever it was they talked about out of their human counterparts’ presence. Lyndon paused before turning back to his paper, making sure everyone was staying away from him. Pax was occupied with a book he’d just pulled out from his nightstand, so he was none of Lyndon’s concern, and the imps . . . were doing something with pipe cleaners and scraps of fabric.  
   _I’m okay. I guess. It’s been a little hectic. How do I say it all in one letter? Mother and Father were right about one thing; as their son, I’m bound for royalty. I Awakened as the Queen of Spades a few days ago. The other Spade guy, Pax, he’s the King. Our principal decided we get to room together, since we’re the only Spades here, and “there’s strength in numbers.” I guess that makes sense, since I’ve already been targeted. But still, I wish I were rooming with someone else. Not to mention, the room is a little . . . intimate. My best guess is that the people who lived in here before were a couple._  
_Pax has an imp, too, though I guess that’s because he’s a Face Card; anyway, his imp’s name is Esmund, though Pax calls them Ezzie sometimes, the way Kaolin asks me to call them Lin. And for some reason, Esmund calls everyone “love.” I’m not sure why. Apparently, our imps are also siblings. How that happened, I’m not sure — nor do I want to be._  
_I met Yannick here. Now we know where she works, though not why she never told us. I’ve gathered that she likes this place about as much as I do, (at least the downstairs floor) so I’m not really sure why she stays. I met the principal, too, when he called us in to talk about our Marks. We didn’t get much talked about, though. We did meet two other Face Cards, a King and a Jack from the same Suit. I forget the King’s name; something hard to pronounce, and the Jack . . . it was something like an A name. A female A name._  
_I know you asked me to try, guys. I’m trying. But to be honest, sometimes I feel like running away from this place and never looking back. At least with you I don’t have to worry about being “cursed.” I need to know what to do. I’m going to the library after I send this, but please, I need some of your advice really badly right now. What do you think I should do? With Pax, with Yannick, with . . . everything, really. Write back._  
_-Lyndon_  
  
He surveyed his words, editing here and there. Overall, though, it looked like he’d gotten the massage across. He folded up the paper, sealing it inside the envelope.  
    “Do you know where the mail office is?”  
    Lyndon jumped, dropping his letter and barely holding back from squeaking, whirling around to glare at Pax. “don’t scare me like that!” he snapped, picking up the fallen paper.  
    “Sorry,” Pax said, his smile disappearing when Lyndon glared at him again. “But do you?”  
     _No, he doesn’t._ Lin popped up behind them, looking extremely pleased with themself. _Why don’t you show him, Majesty?_  
    “no,” Lyndon snapped. “I can find it on my own.”  
     _In this place?_ Esmund flapped over, their smile inquisitive. _Do you not remember who got lost every two turns the first three weeks we were up here?_  
    Lyndon threw a pencil at all three of the mutineers and marched out the door, shoulders hunched. It wasn’t necessarily their teasing that had him so riled up, though that had played a part in it; the reason he was so upset was because he had absolutely _no idea_ what he was supposed to do next. His grandparents, for as long as he’d known them, had always been more than willing to lend him a hand, usually accompanied by a plate of brownies and a warmer-than-the-sweets smile. Lyndon didn’t care what his mother thought of his father’s parents; to him, they were perfect. Unfortunately, all attempts to run away to their house when he was younger had always ended in him going back to his “home.” The visits would last a few weeks, maybe, before the guards showed up to haul him away. But that had been a lot of time for Lyndon to hang out with his twin cousins, who were always thrilled to see him, and his grandparents.  
    But here at the academy, there wasn’t really any way to sneak out without getting caught, especially with Pax on his tail the first bunch of encounters. Lyndon sighed.  
    “What?” He turned to look at the Heart’s King, who was hidden partly behind the wall corner.  
    “I didn’t think you could see me,” he said as he stepped out, bowing his head slightly in acknowledgment of being found out.  
    Lyndon folded his arms, making sure the letter was safely in his pocket. “Why were you following me?”  
    “I wished to learn more about my opponents,” the King said calmly.  
    Lyndon felt a chill run down his spine. “Opponents? What do you mean by that?” he stepped forward a little as he spoke, closing the distance between them.  
    The King looked down at the shorter boy, tilting his head to the side slightly. “You do not know of the tournament?”  
    The chill raced back into existence, running laps around Lyndon’s back. “No. Tournament—?”  
    The King stepped to the side, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. “I am sure you know of the fact that this is the first time in generations all sixteen Titles have Awoken at the same time. My country has decided to hold a tournament in honor of this, to see if the new rulers are . . . .” Something in his face darkened, and his tone turned bitter. “Up to the task.”  
    Lyndon recognized that shadow, and he relaxed slightly. “In other words, they don’t want ot relinquish their hold,” he said, matching in tone for bitterness.  
    The other nodded, raising an eyebrow. “You have experience with people like my King and Queen.” It wasn’t a question.  
    Lyndon nodded anyway, shoulders tense as he looked away frowning. Silence settled over them, awkward and heavy.  
     _Well, you could cut this with a knife,_ a new voice announced, and Lyndon jumped just as the King’s frown deepened. _What’s with all the gloom, kids?_ An imp ( _Another?_ Lyndon thought in weary, slightly dismayed exasperation) materialized on the King’s shoulder, wings folded behind their back and tial curling over their arm in a way Lyndon could only describe as “posh.”  
    “Albrecht,” the King said, in a very put-upon voice. “I thought you were staying with our roommates?”  
     _Oh, pooh,_ the imp said, tossing their tail back with a flippant expression. _They’re no fun. ‘Sides, why would I miss an oppurtunity to meet the new kids on the royal block?_ The imp threw a leering grin at Lyndon. _Hello._  
    Lyndon stayed silent, crossing his arms and glaring back.  
    The imp shrugged. _Someone’s grumpy._  
    “Given who he is talking to,” the King said, picking the imp up by their wings and setting them on a torch, the flames passing through them seemingly without harm, “I cannot say I am surprised. You are not the most pleasant creature to converse with.”  
    Lyndon eyed the taller boy with a raised eyebrow. _Fancy talk,_ he thought. _Court talk._ “Are you a noble?” He asked, not really thinking about what he was saying.  
    The imp and the Heart looked back at him, the King’s expression holding mild surprise and confusion, the imp’s grin growing broader. _You know how they talk?_ The imp asked, tilting their head. A moment of silence fell over them. _Yeah,_ Albrecht said as a sliver of something more malicious crept into their smile, no longer questioning, _you know it. Why’s that, I wonder?_  
    Lyndon tensed, realizing too late what he’d let slip and looked away. “None of your business,” he eventually muttered.  
     _Hmm,_ Albrecht said, sounding amused.  
    “Albrecht,” the King said, a warning in his voice.  
     _Alright, alright,_ Albrecht sighed, backing down reluctantly. _I get it._ They flapped up and away from the flames, grinning at them again. Their face was much more expressive than Kaolin or Esmund, Lyndon noticed. _If you need me, King, you know where I’ll be._ With that, he vaporized into black, rose-tinted smoke.  
    The King sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I apologize for that one,” he said, narrowing his eyes and staring at the wall. “He is . . . difficult.”  
    Lyndon snorted, barely suppressing the urge to retort _I hadn’t noticed._ Instead he stuck his hand out after a second or so of hesitation, prompting the older teenager to look at him in confusion. “Lyndon,” he said. “Though you probably knew that.”  
    His hadn was regarded in silence for a heartbeat or so, then taken and shaken firmly. “Ayden Agapios. Well met, Queen of Spades.” Something like the shadow of a smile crept onto the King’s lips. “I hope for friendly relations between our countries in the future.”  
    Lyndon nodded, automatically falling into the routine of formal speech. “As do I, King of Hearts. May your hearts beat steady and your paths stay straight.”  
    Ayden’ ghost of a smile grew into a proper one at Lyndon’s use of the Heart country proverb. “May your hold over time never falter,” he said in return.  
    And then they bowed to each other, walking away.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
“What do you think?”  
    Pax and the imps were sitting in the third courtyard, sitting against the “Art Wall” (as the students called it) and chomping on burritos; Pax had shrimp, Esmund had chicken, and Kaolin had beef. The Art Wall was a tapestry of paintings verious people had added over the years; originally, it had just been this one thing from Alice Lidell, the first human to show up in the Looking Glass Domains — a chalk contribution to her adventures. Over time, more and more artists had added their own takes on what should be there, until the entire western wall was covered with art; chalk, paint, crayons, whatever was available. Some people had carved into the wall, too, which drove some of the staff crazy.  
    Pax’s personal favorite was the one he and Lori were sitting right next to, one that had been painted on with the artist’s fingers. It was pretty abstract; mostly all colors and strokes, harsh ad gentle. But something about it just . . . struck a chord in Pax, like he knew the artist.  
     _About what?_ Esmund didn’t bother to look up, focusing instead on their food, somehow managing to cram it into their mouth without ever actually opening it (at least, not that Pax could see).  
    “This.” Pax tilted his sketchbook so it would be easier for the imps to see. “Mrs. Shelton said I had to draw you two. How bad is it?”  
     _Hmm,_ Kaolin said, looking up and staring at it with a critical eye. _I’d say our hands are too big. Our feet, too. And what’s this business with me looking like a rat?_ Their last sentence was laced with indignance as they pointed to the paper.  
    Pax grimaced and rubbed the back of his head. “I’m pretty sure I implied I’m not good at this sort of thing. Sorry.”  
    Kaolin sighed and rolled their eyes. _Well, I guess it could be worse. After all,_ they said, their tone suddenly changing from plaintive to mischievous, _I could look like you!_  
    “Thanks,” Pax said dryly.  
     _D’you think Lynnie has found the mail yet?_ Esmund mused, having finsihed their burrito.  
    “Lynnie?” Pax echoed, sounding slightly put out. “How come you two got away with giving him a nickname? He just ignores me whenever I try.” He paused and added, “but no, he probably hasn’t found the post office yet.”  
    Esmund flashed him an amused grin. _You try too hard, love. And I believe he gives us some leeway in this._  
    Pax humphed. Then he sighed, standing and brushing himself off. “Come on,” he said. “We should go back and see if Lyndon needs rescuing from the halls.” He grabbed his bag, tossing their trash into it to be thrown away later, and set off, not bothering to see if the imps were following him. They usually did that, even when he didn’t want them to.  
    As he walked, he thought about the pale Spade boy. Why was his Mark in his eyes? That had never happened before, that anyone knew of; the oddest Mark placement recorded had been on Edgar’s and Allen’s (a pair of Jack Twins, though Jacks usually were twins) tongues. So why Lyndon’s eyes? He had explained it in the scientific way, back in class, but what about magical? Was Lyndon one of those people who didn’t believe in magic, even though there was proof of it everywhere? Maybe — he was nerdy enough for that possibility. But if it _was_ magic, then the library was in Pax’s near future. After he found the Queen, anyway. For being someone with no sense of direction, Lyndon seemed to be able to get into the weirdest places.  
     _You have your pondering face on, love,_ Esmund said, flapping up next to him. _Penny for your thoughts?_  
    “I don’t know,” Pax huffed. “There’s a lot fo stuff on my mind. Marks. Lyndon. Being lost. Magic. Face Cards.” He shrugged. “Maybe I can unload on you later.”  
    Esmund nodded, waving, and suddenly disappeared, dissipating into smoke. Kaolin grinned at Pax, having popped up from behind their sibling, and copied the other imp with a wink.  
    Pax wound his way through the halls, looking for the tell-tale glimpse of the younger Spade. Not finding him along his way, Pax sighed and turned his steps to the library, hoping Lyndon had found the mail box and gone back to their room. The young Queen could find his way there without assistance, at least. He pushed open the library door, peering around it before stepping inside. Some of the librarians there were . . . hectic.  
    “So,” Pax muttered to himself as he went further in, shutting the door closed behind him. “What am I looking for first?”  
    “Depends,” Lyndon’s disembodied voice said from behind a shelf, making Pax jump. “What’s eating at you?”  
    Pax frowned and looked around the corner of the shelf Lyndon’s voice had come from. Sure enough, there he was, looking almost completely engrossed in the book he was holding in his hands. He glanced up, just barely, as Pax came around the corner, offering a small flick of his fingers as a wave. “Why are you in the library?” Pax asked, readjusting the bag on his shoulder. “I thought you were going to the mail box.”  
    “I was,” Lyndon said in a distracted tone. “And I did. So now I’m looking up something an . . . acquaintance of ours told me.”  
    Pax raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”  
    “Ever heard of Heart country tournaments?”  
    The dark-haired boy shook his head, peering over Lyndon’s shoulder. “No.” The book was open to the index until Lyndon found what he was looking for, and flipped to the middle of the book. It was the beginning of a chapter, the title written in such extravagant, fancy lettering that Pax couldn’t decifer it. Although, of course, that could be because he wasn’t wearing his contacts — words tended to be a little blurry when he wasn’t wearing them.  
    Lyndon tapped the page. “That would be it. But apparently, Heart Kingdom is holding a _special_ tournament this year in honor of all the Face Cards awakening at the same time, and I wanted to look into it.”  
    “Where did you hear this?” Pax asked, frowning. He only got a shrug. Pax sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Well,” he said, “I am going to go look for my own research material.” Lyndon gave a non-commital grunt. The Spade King rolled his eyes and walked off, going through the list of things he wanted to look at in his head. He walked off toward the M section, having decided to go with magic first. He knew he’d already exhausted the Mark related stuff, no point going there. Unless there was new stuff . . . ? Nope.  
    Pax sighed and ran a hand through his hair. A tournament, huh? He hadn’t seen one in person, his family being too poor for that, but he’d seen some on TV. He hadn’t gotten the concept at the time, and he still had a hard time getting over why people thought other people trying to kill each other was a good way to pass the time. Though, considering this was Face Cards Lyndon was talking about, maybe it was different from the usual. For a kingdom renowned for its healing, Heart Country was incredibly violent. Or maybe that was why they were so volatile; they could just regenerate limbs and such.  
    Another sigh pushed its way out. “I hope there’s no jousting,” he muttered. Pax had no idea how to ride a horse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are love!


	6. Twins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So shooooort.  
> . . . . Meet the twins!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update today, because these two chapters are ashamedly short. Sorry.

Deemarie was reading her cousin’s letter for teh second time, her twin sister rolling around on the floor next to her. She pursed her lips, tilting her head to the side. Their grandpa wasn’t back from his writing club yet, and Grandma was out in the garden; they weren’t supposed to talk to her then, that was her time to be “a crazy old coot,” in her own words.  
    “What do we tell him?” Dummarie asked, flinging her legs up to bonk them on the wall. “Grandpa won’t be back for hours!”  
    “Half an hour,” Dee said a little absent-mindedly.  
    “And Grandma’s still in the garden!” Dumm continued, having ignored her sister. “She won’t come out for _days_ sometimes. What do we tell him?”  
    Dee looked up. “Dunno. Let’s go play with Cheshire, she’s got a lot of good advice.”  
    “Oh yeah!” Dumm lept into a sitting position, the bright grin on her face diffusing the panic she had felt in trying to get words to her cousin in the city. They both ignored the imps glaring at them in indignation, miffed that the girls would go to a cat rather than beings who could actually communicate in English. Like Rook. Or Bishop. Then again, the two girls didn;t usually go to the imps for advice, having been on the recieving end of one too many pranks gone wrong. “Where is she?”  
    Dee shrugged in repsonse. Her twin let out an exasperated huff, rolling ehr eyes, but she didn’t say anything else. They’d always manage to find the cat’s hiding place and coax her out of it. Eventually. With lots of tuna. And mouse toys. “I’ll get the tuna cans and mayo.”  
    “And I’ll look for Cheshire!” Dumm said cheerfully.  
    After a few minutes of looking under beds (the wrong place), they found Cheshire perching on an open door, staring at them with her tail flicking from side to side. The cat’s signature, freakily human grin was on her face as she stared at the twins. It took a lot of tuna to get her down (then again, it usually took five cans. So three was an improvement).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are love!


	7. Saints Back Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The imp siblings talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dare you to figure out who Mika is.

Lyndon and Pax had fallen asleep ages ago, the usual argument ensuing over Lyndon’s choice of music (“I don’t care what you think of Set It Off, they _do_ have good music!”) before they huffed off to their own beds and sulked under the blankets. It was quiet now, the album having played out to its last song. Kaolin and Esmund were sitting on the night stand in between the beds, staring at their human counterparts and their backs against each other.  
    “Do you think she’ll want Lyndon back soon?” Kaolin asked softly, their hand intertwined with Esmund’s.  
    “I don’t know. Maybe. Probably, knowing her.” Esmund rubbed their thumb over the back of Lin’s hand. “The tournament seems like a good time for their Majesties to place their claim on him.” The imp sighed in sympathy. “Poor kid.”  
    “Mmm,” Lin hummed in agreement. “Poor kid.”  
    Ezzie sighed. “I miss her. You know, the old her. The on ethat would jump around in leaf piles in Fall and grin when she got leaves in her hair.” They paused. “Where did she go?” The question was laced in quiet sadness, a bit of fondness too. “Where did my Mika run off to?” They paused again. “And what stranger took my Mika’s place?”  
    Lin leaned into their sibling, wrapping an arm around them in comfort. “I don’t know, Ezzie. I just don’t know.”  
    They stared at their human counterparts for a bit again. “You know,” Ezzie started, “She started out like them, too. But . . .” They hesitated. “What went wrong? How did _we_ go wrong with them? How—” The imp’s voice faltered, come over with emotion. “How _could_ we go that way, how could _I_ let her get that way?” A tear dripped down their face. “It’s my fault Lyndon has such strict parents. It’s my fault that he blames himself for so much of Jay and Gretel and everything.”  
    “Hey,” Lin said, rubbing Ezzie’s arm. “Hey, you’re okay. You won’t lead Pax wrong this time.” Ezzie sniffled, leaning into the other imp. “You _won’t._ Okay?”  
    “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are love!


	8. The Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yay there's a trip happening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wugh. I'm hungry.
> 
> *cackles* Gigi is the match-maker! Lyndon is exasperated!  
> Also, Ezzie is turning into this like . . . sibling/parent figure? I don't know how that happened. But Ezzie seems very chill with just about everything. *shrugs*

Pax stared at the envelope in his hand. _I shouldn’t be reading this,_ he thought to himself. _It’s private. Lyndon would kill me if I looked at it._ But still, the revelation that Lyndon had people he cared about enough to ask for advice? That was surprising. Though it probably shouldn’t have been; just because Lyndon didn’t like the company of people at this school it didn’t mean he didn’t like others’.  
    Eventually he sighed and turned around on his heel, heading off for their room. It was the end of Friday; another long day of running back and forth from upstairs to downstairs and running fromteh weird looks other students gave him. He knew what they were thinking; _King? This young?_ Probably a _So not fair!!!_ From a few of them. _Be my guest,_ Pax thought tiredly as someone sent him a glare that really felt like it. A surpising number of people, Pax had found, still thought kings didn’t have much to do politically/financially, thought that royalty lazed around all day just ordering people around with the flick of a wrist. Whatever. It wasn’t his problem if people were misinformed, or just lazy. There were _books._ There was a _library._ It wasn’t as if they couldn’t look up what a King’s duties were.  
    “Mail call,” Pax announced as he opened the door to their room. “For a Mr. Lyndon Russell.” He handed the envelope to Lyndon, who looked just as surprised as he did.  
    “Seriously?” The paler boy asked as he took it, looking at the return address. “Seriously,” he said, answering his own question.  
     _Wow,_ Kaolin said, flapping up behind them. _That was fast even for your grandparets. Think it was the twins?_  
    “Shut up, Kaolin,” Lyndon said, sounding like he wasn’t realy thinking about it as he slid his finger into the envelope flap. He pulled out—  
    “Wow,” Pax said, eyebrows climbing into his hairline. “These twins of yours sure write a lot, don’t they?”  
    Lyndon shot him a glare before standing up and walking over to his bed, clicking a button on his CD player and turning the volume up almost deafeningly loud. Pax rolled his eyes in exasperation as the now-familiar Cinematics album played. Lyndon settled down with the impressive seven pages of a letter, crossing his legs in criss-cross-apple-sauce style. Pax pursed his lips, resisting the urge to ask what was in the letter; it was none of his business, anyway, and turned away to his book on Heart Country customs. He’d skipped to the part where tournaments had started getting popular, about five hundred years ago when the Diamond king that kid in class had mentioned was ruling; that Talbot guy, something Talbot. Pretty much everywhere was violent bak then; his influence had given the other kingdoms a lot of . . . less than safe ideas. Not really the perfect role model for being a King.  
    “What music do you listen to?”  
    Pax looked up, startled, at the sudden question from Lyndon. “What?”  
    “Just answer the question, please.” Lyndon held up the sheets of paper. “What music do you listen to? By the way, they say that if you don’t know at least two Panic! At The Disco songs then I can’t interact with you anymore. Please tell me you don’t know that band.”  
    “I do, actually,” Pax answered, raising an eyebrow. “Hallelujah, Sins not Tragedies, Crazy equals Genius, Mona Lisa, LA Devotee, This is Gospe—”  
    “Okay,” Lyndon interrupted, his hands up by his head with the palms out. “I get it.” He turned away and went back to scribbling his reply.  
    Pax watched the other boy for a moment or so, trying to predict if he would ask Pax another question. When silence passed for about a minute, Pax turned his attention back to his book, eyes searching the page for where he had left off. He’d just started reading again when—  
    “Rook says you are coming over to my grandparent’s house for summer break,” Lyndon suddenly informed him without looking up, narrowin ghis eyes at the paper.  
    The raven haired boy’s head snapped up. “I’m sorry?”  
    Lyndon shrugged. “A . . . I guess ‘friend’ of my cousin’s. He’s serious when he talks like that, so you should probably clear out your schedule.” Lyndon blinked. “Unless it was already clear.” He shrugged. “Anyway, the twins want to met you, too, so. I guess you’re staying the summer.”  
    Pax gaped at him. “What?’ He finally managed.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Lyndon sighed. Why had he invited Pax? Why couldn’t he ignre his cousin’s request? No, wait, he knew the answer to that one; it was because he had imagined their bambi faces, making those  pleading puppy dog eyes at him while they begged “Pleaaaaase?” He spoiled those two way too much. Yeesh. But maybe this meant he could talk to his grandparents longer than he usually got to; the twins almos always had him monopolized so much he could barely see them. Although that would mean he’d have to deal with their imps . . .  
    Lyndon sighed again, surveying the gaping emptiness of his suitcase. They were leaving for his grandparent’s in a few days, and as always, hte irrational panic had overtaken him. He knew it was stupid; this was his grandparents he was talking about — they’d never thought he was a waste of space, why would they start now? Lyndon was almost certain there was a word for what he felt with “phobia” tacked onto the end of it, but he hadn’t found it yet. He knew he had much less chanxe of beign rejected with his grandparent than with his actual parents. But still — that fer was still there; _What if they think I messed up? What if I’m not good enough for them anymore? What if, what if, what if . . ._ The list went on. It wasn’t reasonable, fears like this never were, and it blowed dead goats.  
     _How’s it going, love?_  
    Lyndonn jumped as Esmund popped up out of smoke behind him. “dude,” he grumbled. “Give me some warning next time.” He sat down on the bed. “How’s what going?”  
    The imp grinned. _You know, the packing. Need help?_  
    “No,” Lyndon said shortly. Yes. “I’m fine.”  
     _Mmm._ Esmund eyed the open, conspicuously bare case on the bed. _I can see that. Well. Bite?_ Out of nowhere, the imp produced a half-eaten cinnamon roll, the smile less mischievous now ad more friendly.  
    Lyndon stared at it in incredulous disbelief. “Where did you get that thing? How does it have a bite out of it if you don’t have a mouth?”  
     _Now, now, Lynnie,_ Esmund chided, ignoring the baleful glare Lyndon sent them at the nickname, _don’t look a gift imp in the mouth._  
    Lyndon grunted crankily, but accepted the pastry anyway as he stood and headed over to his desk. Once there, he started picking it apart moodily, watching as the pieces he pulled off fell to the desk top.  
     _Ah, love, that’s not how a cinnamon roll works,_ Esmund said, perching on the desk next to him.  
    “Don’t care,” Lyndon muttered. He dropped his hands, the roll having been all pulled apart by then and slammed his head on the table (missing the pastry bits).  
     _You know, Pax is already packed up for this,_ Esmund observed. _Are you sure you don’t want any help? Because it looks like you need it._  
    Lyndon grunted, waving at the imp to go crazy. “Knock yourself out.”  
     _Oh, I wouldn’t do that,_ Esmund said cheerfully, flapping up into the air again and heading voer to the dresser by Lyndon’s bed. _I think it would be much too painful, doing what it takes to knock an imp of my age into unconsciousness._  
    Lyndon stared at them, frowning. “What?” He said eventually.  
    Esmund smiled at Lyndon, winking as they folded a shirt into the suit case. _It’s nothing, love, don’t mind me._  
    “Oh.” Lyndon fell silent, watching the imp hum to themself, an arm flung over the chair back. “How old are you?” The question fell out of his mouth before he could really think about it; he hated when that happened. Only bad (embarassing) things would ensue when he did that.  
    Esmund looked up. _I’m about as old as your grandmother, love. Why?_  
    “I — oh.” Lyndon blinked, taken aback. He’d thought the imp would pretend to be scandalized, ask how Lyndon could think of asking a magic creature their age. “Wait, you know my grandmother?”  
     _Yes,_ Esmund said, expression unchanging. _You didn’t answer my question._  
    “I—” Words were failing the pale boy. “It just . . . popped out, I guess.”  
     _Hmm._ The imp looked back down, rearranging the clothes. _Okay._  
    Lyndon stared, completely weirded out. “Okay . . .” he muttered, turning back to the desk and playing with the bits of pastry strewn all over the glass.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
“So,” Pax stated, staring. His eye twitched, trying to hold back the sneezes threatening to take his nose hostage. “This is your grandparents’ place.”  
    “So,” Lyndon parroted. “This is my grandparents’ place. Come on, the twins want to meet you.”  
    “Great,” Pax muttered, feeling a little light-headed. He followed the other boy anyway, grabbing his bag and readjusting it on his shoulder. It wasn’t that the house itself was huge; it was the garden. Lush, green _green_ grass sprawled everywhere, dotted with bursting colors of violet, red, blue, yellow . . . . It was a nature lover’s paradise. It was also wreaking havoc on Pax’s allergies.  
    “Lyndon!”  
    Pax looked up just in time to see Lyndon being tackled by two identical girls and a cat. Lyndon stumbled, losing his grip on the suitcase, and tumbled down with the attackers in tow. Pax blinked.  
    “I think this si the happiest I’ve seen him,” he remarked softly to the imps flapping around his head. “Ever.”  
    Esmund and Kaolin both grinned at him, Ezzie settling on his shoulder. _He does love those two, a bit too much sometimes,_ Kaolin said, a note of fondness in his voice. A yelp caught their attention and they looked back over to see Lyndon pulling the cat off him and glaring at it, its fur all over his face. _The cat, though, that’s a different matter,_ Kaolin said wryly. Pax snorted, wincing as the snort turned into a flurry of unwelcome sneezes.  
    “Pax!”  
    “I — Hi!” Pax yelped as the girls got off of Lyndon and proceeded to attack him instead, though they didn’t try to push him off his feet. One of them pulled out a handkerchief from her pocket and offered it to him. “Thank you,” Pax said, sniffing.  
    “I’m Dummarie!” The girl who was still hollding ont his waist chirped her name out cheerfully, looking up at him with unmasked curiousity. “She’s Deemarie. People always call us Dee and Dumm, though, so you can call us that too!” She paused, frowning as soemthing occurred to her and peered up at Pax suspiciously. “You know Panic, right?”  
    “Uh . . .” Pax blinked. “Good to know. Dumm. And — Panic at the disco, you mean? Yeah, I know them.”  
    She grinned happily, letting go of him and bouncing off like a bullet. A very smiley, energetic, less harmful bullet. “Grandma’s in the garden,” she informed Lyndon, who was brushing off his pants. “And Grandpa’s in the kitchen!”  
    Lyndon smiled at her, ruffling her hair. “Grumpy without his coffee, huh?”  
    “Yes,” the girl still standing by Pax — Dee — confirmed. “Incredibly.”  
    “He won’t stop talking about how he needs your coffee!” Dumm whined, grabbing Lyndon’s hand and whirling around. “Come on, come on, let’s go!” Lyndon shrugged at Pax as Dumm pulled him along, Dee following suit and grabbing Pax’s arm.  
     _How’s Rook?_ Kaolin asked cheerfully. Pax blinked.  
    “Who is that, anyway?” He asked, managing to pull his bag back p before it fell of his shoulder. “All you said earlier was that they’re a friend of your cousin’s.”  
    “A friend?” Dumm stopped, her nose wrinkling. “Rook isn’t a _friend_ — he’s rude and sticky and gross and he’s got cooties!”  
    Pax was unable to stop the short huff of laughter that escaped his throat. “What?”  
    “Rook and Bishop are our imps,” Dee explained, havign settled ehr hand comfortably in Pax’s. “They like to play pranks.”  
    “. . . Oh.” He had to blink for a few minutes before he could process what she’d said. “Wait, you two are Face Cards?”  
    Lyndon stopped in his tracks ahead of them, turning back to look at Pax with wide eyes. The snow-haired boy opened his mouth, probably going to say something, when he was interrupted by the sound of an old man yelling something incoherent. Lyndon closed his mouth, an irritated expression crossing his features and turned around, tugging at Dumm’s hand.  
    “Come on,” he said, and Pax could hear the eye roll that accompanied his words. “Let’s go appease Grandpa.”  
    “What’s a Face Card?” Dumm asked curiously, swinging her free arm as she walked.  
    “It’s . . . a little complicated,” Lyndon told her. “I’ll tell you when we get inside, okay?”  
    “Okay!” Dumm hummed, letting go of her cousin’s hand and skipping ahead.  
    Pax had to stop again and gape when they got inside. If he’d thought outside was impressive, inside was even more so. Painted backgrounds on the walls depicted a small white-haired boy — _Lyndon,_ Pax thought — grinning at them, his small hands waving slightly. ANother wall had stars glittering against a black backdrop, spelling out “love” and “hope” and “Our home.” And there were little bits of glass bottles stuck into the walls, like mini-windows, so tehre was multi-olored light filtering in all over the floor. And the lights also made pictures, like painted glass on the floor — illustrations of dragons, fairies, flowers . . . imps. It was breathtaking.  
    “Wow,” Pax breathed, barely noticing when Dee glanced up at him with a satisfied smile. “This — this is amazing.”  
    “We helped,” Dee informed him as he traced one of the bottle pieces. “It took a long time, and the imps didn’t help because they kept dragging the bottles out.”  
    Pax smiled back at her. “I love it.” The moment halted when another yell sounded, startling Pax and Dee. Pax looked ahead where Lyndon, Dumm and the other imps had disappeared. “Is your grandpa always that grumpy?”  
    Dee shurgged. “Pretty much. Yeah.”  
    Pax shook his head. “Okay.”  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Grandpa was staring into his mug grumpily as always, looking like he was trying to _will_ the cup to fill itself up with the black, caffeinated liquid. He was sitting with his hands curled around his favorite mug and his flesh leg tucked under the table. Lyndon smiled, shaking his ehad, and walked around the grumpy coot to get the coffee going. Dumm, inoring the grumpy mutterings of her grandfather, jumped up onto the stool next to him and placed her own cup that she’d filched from the cupboard down with a small _thok._  
    It took a bit, but Grandpa eventually turned to her with a surprised look, as if he hadn’t seen her sitting down. Knowing his hyper focus, he probably hadn’t. “Dummarie,” he said, his voice rumbly with left-over sleep. “Where’s your sister?” His frown deepened. “Where’s that cousin of yours, too?”  
    “Here, Gigi,” Lyndon said by the coffee maker.  
    The old man turned in his chair, squinting at the teenager. “When did you get back?” he asked, blinking. “Why don’t I have coffee?” he added in an accusatory tone.  
    “It’s getting ready,” Lyndon assured the old man. “Just wait a few more minutes.”  
    “Hmph,” Gigi grumbled, but he turned back around without further complaint.  
    “Grandpa,” Dumm tugged at his sleeve, “Grandpa, Lyn brought someone home with him!” she grinned widely, pleased with herself for bringing this news to Gigi’s attention.  
    “Hmm?” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Is it a girl?”  
    Lyndon choked on his own drink (water), looking up just in time to see Pax standing in the doorway with a slightly scandalized expression on his face. Dee was standing next to him, blinking in confusion. “Why would you think Pax is a girl?” She asked curiously, tilting her head.  
    “That boy,” Gigi pronounced, pointing an almost accusing finger at Lyndon, “needs a girl in his life. I don’t care, as long as she’s a nice one. You are much too against romance,” he chided a resigned Lyndon, who had his head cradled in one of his hands. “Don’t give me that attitude, young man! Love would be a good thing for someone your age,” Gigi admonished, seemingly forgetting his want for coffee in favor of trying to (yet again) be Lyndon’s match maker.  
    “That’s what you said last year,” Lyndon muttered. A small _ping_ on the coffee maker saved him from having to say much else, and he turned with Gigi’s mug in hand.  
    “Because it’s true!” Gigi exclaimed, accepting the cup when it had been filled. He glared into the green pottery’s contents. “Stubborn boy,” he grumbled.  
    Lyndon looked up and met Pax’s eyes, the dark haired boy looking less scandalized and more confused. He sighed. “Gigi,” he said, resigning himself, “this is Pax. He’s not a girl, but he is one of the people who came back with me. At the behest of you and Nanil.”  
    “And us!” Dumm chimed in, tapping her cup against the table.  
    “And you two,” Lyndon agreed. Gigi looked up with a suspicious glare.  
    “A friend?”  
    Lyndon hesitated. “In a relaxed sense of the term. Sure. He’s a friend.”  
    Gigi gulped down some of his coffee with a satisfied “Hmph,” wincing at the heat that he had failed to blow on.  
  
“Soo . . .” Pax started, though the inquiring effect was ruined by him having to turn his head and sneeze multiple times. “Um, what’s the deal with your grandfather trying to get you a girflriend?” he asked once he’d recovered from the sneezes.  
    Lyndon grimaced and pulled at another weed. Nanil had come in to greet the twins, grab Lyndon in a bone-crushing hug, and order them out to the garden to pull weeds. Not the most sentimental of greetings; but then, Nanil wasn’t the most sentimental of people. “It’s . . . I don’t know.” The pale teen shrugged. “They’ve both been trying to convince me that I need to be less ‘anti-social,’ but I’ve been fine without company.”  
    Pax eyed the angry line of Lyndon’s shoulders as he yanked at a particularly stubborn tendril. “I can see that.”  
    Lyndon scowled. “Don’t be a smart ass now, you were doing so well.”  
    “What, that position’s taken up by you?” Pax joked with a raised eyebrow. He missed the glare that was thrown his way, having to sneeze into his elbow again.  
     _Well, Lyn’s always been good at pushing people away,_ Kaolin said cheerfully. The imp either missed or pointedly ignored the glare that was sent his way, flapping lazy circles in the air above them. _I don’t see why he shouldn’t let people in for once._  
    “Why do I bother,” Lyndon muttered, flinging the plant in his hands at Kaolin, who dodged it easily with an unrepentant cackle. He huffed, turning his attention back to the plants. Plants did not try to force him into the waking world. Plants were nice, un-sentient things that couldn’t talk to anyone or influence their choices and wouldn’t it be ironic if the stupid weeds suddenly started interrupting his inner monologue? _That would be fun,_ he thought grumpily, _being proved wrong again, by_ plants _of all things. Damnit._  
    “Um,” Pax said, looking uncertain. “You kind of said that out loud, so it wasn’t really . . . an _inner_ monologue. More an outer one . . .?” His voice trailed off at the glare Lyndon sent him. If looks could kill, and all that.  
    Whatever. “Let’s just finish the damn weeding,” Lyndon grumbled, ripping at yet another blade of unwanted grass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are love!


	9. Domestics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dosebeeds. Talking. Bonding???

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I notice writers have double standards when it comes to cliff-hangers; whenever it happens to us, we're all "Noooooo whhyyyyyyyy" but when we get the oppurtunity, we're like "*evil mad cackle* YES WRITHE IN OUT-OF-THE-LOOP AGONY, READERS!"  
> . . . . *clears throat*  
> I'mma go get in my carrot fortress . . . yeah.
> 
> Also, sorry 'bout the hashtags thrown in there, they're for writing class. Feel free to ignore 'em.
> 
> *UPDATE* We've reached the end of my chapter cushion! I forgot to say this when I was uploading it so you get it right before Saturday '=_= Sorry. But anyway, chapter ten's gonna take . . . it's gonna be a while. Apologies. I dunno if I'll do little things like giving links to backstory stuff or worldbuilding or something - let me know if either of those sound appealing :)

Pax had a lot of weird dreams that night, most of which involving kindly smiles over plates of steaming spaghetti, strange hybrids of the imps, and the flowers from the garden growing stern faces. And a lot of gibberish that somehow made sense. Something about color-coded lions and robots? Whatever it was, Pax could barely remember it now. Now being sometime past midnight, sitting on the roof and staring at the unobstructed stars.  
    “I forgot what they look like outside the city,” he said softly.  
    “What do they look like in the city?”  
    Pax jumped, a yelp leaving his mouth as he nearly gave himself whiplash in turning. Dee and Dumm were standing behind him, holding hands and looking groggy. “Oh.” Pax blinked a few times. “Um, there’s a lot less of them for one thing. And the lights down on ground level make them dimmer.”  
    “That sounds horrible!” Dumm gasped, her hand frozen where she’d been rubbing at her eye. “How do you see any constellations?”  
    “Constellations are human, Dumm,” Dee reminded her. “We don’t have human stars.”  
    Dumm pouted, but she didn’t protest it and tugged Dee to sit next to Pax. “We kept hearing ghosts,” she told Pax earnestly, “so we came up here to hear ‘em better. They stopped talking when we saw you, though.” She paused and frowned. “Do ghosts not like you?”  
    “I wouldn’t know,” Pax said honestly. “I’ve never seen a ghost. Can you?”  
    They both grinned. “They look _ridiculous,”_ Dee informed him. “Like overexcited dogs wearing costumes.”  
    Pax frowned, trying to visualize. “That . . . certainly sounds ridiculous,” he said slowly.  
    The girls gave him matching grins. “Right?”  
    “Why are you up here?” Dee asked, tilting her head.  
    The young King shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. Although I’m pretty sure it was for different reasons then you two.”  
    “Ooh, like what?” Dumm asked. If Pax looked hard enough, he could see little dog ears on top of her head perking up as she tilted her head to the side, eyes twinkling with curiosity.  
    “Well . . .” Pa shrugged. “I was just wondering what it’d be like if our grandparents met. And then I got to thinking about how your family might react if you met my entire family, and then I started thinking about my sister. Or one of them, anyway” He leaned back on his elbows. “She’d probably want to to draw everyone together and everyone separately.”  
    “Do you think she’d like us?” Dumm asked, scooching closer so she was basically cuddled up in Pax’s side.  
    “Definitely,” Pax said. “I don’t think she’s ever met someone she didn’t like after the first five minutes.”  
    “Good,” Dumm said, sounding satisfied. “Everyone should see how awesome we are.” She grinned up at Pax, bangs falling into her eyes. “Hey, if we had constellations, what do you think they would be?” She asked Dee, who looked like the abrupt change of subject was natural with them. IT probably was, considerign their age.  
    Dee shrugged, laying back. “Who knows? Some group of shapes all bunched together, prob’ly. And some would be further than others.”  
    Dumm nodded, her hand on her chin. “Mm-hm, mm-hm. That makes sense!” She threw one more grin Pax’s way before bounding up and grabbing Dee’s arm. “Thanks for talking, bro!”  
    “Sure,” Pax said, blinking at the sudden endearment. “Sleep well.”  
    “We will!” They chorused. “Good night, Pax,” Dee said, smiling a little before turning and following her sister down the stairs. The trap door swung shut behind them, the light shining under it going dark a second after with a muffled _click._  
    Pax stared at the door for a minute or so, wondering if the twins would actually go to sleep or if they would goof around a bit more, before turning back to his stargazing. He kept forgetting, in the city, that the stars changed places and shapes so they never looked the same any one night.  
     _What’s wrong, love?_  
    He shrugged. “Dunno. I was thinking about Alba. ‘Bout how she wouldn’t like the lack of internet here; she’d miss being able to get new music online.”  
     _Ha._ Esmund settled down on Pax’s shoulder. _Isn’t she the one who called me your ‘imaginary bat friend’?_  
    “That’s her,” Pax agreed. Then he frowned. “You’ve lived with me for seventeen years. Why don’t you recognize her by name?”  
    The imp shrugged, thier tail swinging back and forth. _Eh. Your siblings all look the same to me._  
    “Oh.”  
     _Why don’t we go back inside?_ Ezzie suggested. _It’s pretty late, and your bed’s waiting for you. Come on love, up you go._  
    “Blegh,” Pax grumbled, stubbornly staying put as the imp pulled on his collar. “I’m not tired, and I’m not cold.”  
     _What are you, five?_ Ezzie asked in exasperation. _It’s after midnight, Pax. You should sleep. Remember, after this visit, you and Lyndon are going to a tournament._  
    Pax sighed. “But that’s at least a week away, why should I worry about it now?” He yanked his arm away from Ezzie’s persistent claws. “Besides . . .” He hesitated. “Lyndon’s down there. I don’t know if he’s asleep yet.”  
    If the imp’s expression could change, Pax was sure Ezzie would have raised an eyebrow. _Why does that matter? If you came in now, he’d probably just ignore you. And like I said, it’s midnight. He must be asleep by now._ At Pax’s dry look, the imp amended their statement. _Okay, he has to be at least dozing by now, even if he_ is _a vampire._  
    Pax huffed. “Fine.” Ezzie flapped ahead of him, pulling open the trapdoor with much more ease than they should have managed, considering it was twice their size. “But if he yells at me when we come in, I’m blaming you.”  
    Lyndon did not, in fact, yell at either the imp or the Terrasen, just mumbled a little in his sleep and turned away from the door. He was curled up in a blanket burrito, with only the tufts of his hair (how it got so spiky after only an hour or so was a mystery for the ages) peeking through. It was probably the most vulnerable Pax had seen him, and the cutest. The effect was slightly ruined when Kaolin settled on Lyndon’s hip and grinned at them toothily.  
     _See?_ Ezzie glided past, curling up on the nightstand next to Lyndon’s couch where Pax was sleeping (Gig had yet to come up with that extra bed he’d promised). _He’s asleep._  
    Pax stood in the doorway, unsure why he hesitated. “I’ll be back,” he whispered, and turned around into the hallway.  
    Kaolin settled down, draping across Lyndon’s hip, and closed their eyes. Pax caught the two in his peripheral vision and his stomach turned. He wasn’t sure why. He shook his head as he walked down the hallway, heading for the kitchen. He was hoping a late-night choconana chip snack (or maybe a drink. Yes, a drink sounded good) would help him sort out his churning feelings. Failing that, it would send him to bed with something sweet in his stomach.  
    He was expecting an empty kitchen, the windchimes tinkling by the sink. He was not expecting to see a light from behind the bathroom door, and voices whispering. Frowning, he turned the corner . . . and found the twins again. “What are you doing awake?” He blurted, making them jump.  
    “Pad!” Dumm said, blinking. She was holding a piece of crumpled toilet paper to her nostrils while Dee was pinching the bridge of her nose, turning the skin around it red from the pressure. “I god a dosebeed. Whad up?”  
    Pax blinked. “I wanted a drink. Does this happen often?”  
    “Oh yeah,” Dumm said cheerfully. “All the time!”  
    “This is the third time this week,” Dee informed him, yanking Dumm’s head down as she squirmed to see him. “No, it doesn’t happen all the time. Though it does come back from time to time and bite us.”  
    Pax frowned. “Oh. Uh . . . okay?” Awkward silence fell.  
    “Pad,” Dumm eventually said, “why are’d you asleep?” Pax’s gaze snapped to her. “It’s really late. We’re nod asleep ‘cause I god a dosebeed. But you do’d have a dosebeed, so why are you still awake?”  
    Pax hesitated. “I don’t know. I just . . .” He sighed. “I dunno. A bad feeling, I guess. Probably nothing.”  
    “Bad feelings should always be taken seriously, Pax,” Dee said. “We’ve never dismissed them as ‘nothing.’ You shouldn’t either. Okay?” She peered at him. “Okay?”  
    “. . . Okay.”  
    “Hey, I think I stopped bleeding!”  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Lyndon was dreaming of his siblings. When they were still alive, they’d been his heroes; always facing up against his parents, rushing off to the the borders of the Looking Glass kingdoms and fighting Nightmares, his sister leading the guard and his brother being the chief apothecary . . . he always wanted to be like them. Sometimes he even thought he wanted to _be_ them.  
    “Someday, kid,” Gretel would say, grinning and ruffling his hair. “It’ll happen.”  
    “You’re gonna shoot past us one day, just you wait,” Jay would add in, looking up from his notes.  
    The dream started out as one of those weird, mushy things; something about Lyndon being a rebel somewhere green, and then he was standing in the middle of a desert wearing a winter dress, and then the dream turned third-person view with someone singing to a huge black binder. It was all very strange, as dreams tend to be. But then, the person singing turned toward him, and he realized it was Gretel. She looked angry, defensive, ready to mow him down. Lyndon took a step back and bumped into her dresser. Looking around, he realized it was a memory ― the memory of when Gretel had resigned as captain of the guard.  
    “There are people out there, miserable and dying, because you won’t let us bring them sand!” She was yelling, Jay standing behind her with his arms folded and his stance stiff. “You _know_ that sand is the source of our magic, you know our people need it ― why won’t you let us care for them?”  
    There was a muffled reply, and Lyndon turned. The figure standing in front of his siblings was blurry, but he could make out the outline of a court dress, dark maroon with gold and tan frills. Whoever was in the dress was holding a cane in one hand, engraved with silver makings and topped with jade. She gestured as she spoke, and Jay snorted, stepping forward.  
    “Our own good?” He asked rhetorically. “If you wanted this for ‘our own good,’ why is it we’re bein’ attacked in the streets by kids madder’n a swarm of hornets?” The figure let out an outraged noise. “Why should I care what you think of the way I talk? It’s not like you ever let me into those grand meetings of yours.”  
    Gretel pushed ehr way in front of him, shoving at the figure’s chest. “You know what? I think it would be for our own good if we did it anyway, whether or not you approve.”  
    There was a yell.  
    “The people are dying!” Gretel yelled back. “They’re scared, they don’t know what’s going on, they blame us ― and you know what? They should, if you’re just gonna stand around and do nothing!”#2 She shoved the figure’s chest again, turned, and marched out of the room. After one last glare, Jay followed her.  
    Lyndon wanted to tell them no, that they had to stay; but he was frozen, forced to watch tem go behind the skirts of his mother.  
  
He woke up with a gasp, flailing in vain, not realizing he’d cocooned himself up in his blankets. Kaolin flapped upwards with an indignant squawk, disappearing into smoke a few inches above him. He struggled, grunting at the nerve of his sheets to entangle themselves in his arms and legs for a few minutes. He gave up after he only made it worse, flopping down onn his back and huffing. pax came over, looking bleary and tired.  
    “Need some help there?”  
    Lyndon blew a few strands of hair out of his face. “No. I need a servant to undo me.” He held up his strait-jacketed arms.  
    Pax snorted, leaning down and working him out of them. “What were you dreaming about?” He asked eventually. “You were muttering about someone leaving.”  
    Lyndon tensed. Kaolin reappeared in midair, scowling as they perched on Lyndon’s head. _What the Glass was that about?_ They demanded, patting Lyndon’s face with their paw. _I was in the middle of my beauty sleep! You can’t just interrupt beauty sleep!_ They gestured to themself. _Lookit this! You think this maintains itself? No way, Jose! I―_ They stopped and sniffed the air. _Who had a nightmare?_  
    “You can smell nightmares?” Pax asked, finally unscrewing Lyndon’s arm from the last bit of blanket. “Ezzie’s never done that.”  
     _Yes, well, Ezzie’s never had to let Pax know,_ the imp themself said, calling from over by the couch. They’d draped themselves over the back of the couch, looking for all the world like they were The Cat. _Pax has always woken everyone up with his nightmares._  
    “I did?” Pax blinked. “I don’t remember that.”  
    “BOYS!” They all jumped as Nanil hollered for them. “Come eat breakfast, while it’s still hot, the twins are already down here!”  
    Lyndon waved them off. “Go eat, I’ll be down there.” Pax gave him a doubtful look, but he took the imps and left. Lyndon sighed and flopped back down, spread eagle on the bed. “How come you’re not antagonizing The Cat?”  
    Rook peered at him. _The Cat is out in the garden._ She made a face. _Too much sun out there, and flowers. And your grannie’s made it clear we ain’t sposed to be there no more._  
     _‘Sides, you’re back,_ Bishop added. _What’s new in angsty town?_  
    Lyndon threw a pillow at him. He dodged. “None of your business, Bishop. Go away.” He stood and opened the window, pulling them by their wings and tossing them out. He closed the window before they could finish complaining and fly back in.  
    “Lyndon!”  
    “I’m coming!” he yelled down the stairs, tossing his cardigan on over his sleep clothes. The button pinned on its hood clanked as he clattered down the stairs, turnign the corner and glaring at The Cat as she rubbed herself on the walls. “I’m watching you,” he muttered to her. She grinned back, eyes glinting. Lyndon shook his head. How the twins loved that thing so much was beyond him, but no one could deny those Bambi eyes when The Cat misbehaved.  
    “Lyndon, my coffee!”  
    “He’s coming down, calm yourself.”  
    “But ― my _coffee!”_  
    As Lyndon turned away from The Cat and entered the kitchen, he was met with Gigi standing right in front of the doorway and waving his mug wildly. “You’re going to lose your grip on that,” he said mildly. Before Gigi could do just that, he caught the old man’s arm and pried it from his fingers gently, making his way to the coffee maker.  
    “Sleep well, then?” Nanil slapped Ezzie’s hand away from the plate of steaming muffins, whacking Pax’s hand at the same time (he’d been reaching for Lyndon’s plate of sausage, how dare he).#3 “Pax tells me you had a bad dream.”  
    Lyndon glared at Pax as he sat down with a cup of milk. “It was fine,” he said shortly, and pulled hi plate toward himself. “Just a memory.”  
    The twin glanced at each other. “Pax couldn’t sleep either,” Dum piped up. “He said he had a bad feeling.”  
    “Why were you awake?” Gigi frowned at them.  
    “I got a nosebleed!” Dumm said proudly, showing off her nose.  
    “She got a nosebleed,” Dee confirmed. “We were in the kitchen bathroom with tissue when Pax asked us what we were doing.”  
    “I just needed a drink,” Pax protested, holding his hands up.  
    “Bad feelings are always taken seriously in this house, Mr. Anselm,” Nanil said gravely, before clapping her hands together and smiling brightly. “Now! Who wants to lead thanks?”  
    The twins’ hands shot up. “Me!” They said in unison, Dumm bouncing in her chair. “Me, me, me, me!” Dumm added as an afterthought.  
    “Lyndon, you haven’t been here for weeks,” Gigi said. “How about you lead thanks?”  
    Lyndon looked up from where he’d been pushing the sausages around on his plate. “What?”  
    “Thanks,” Nanil said patiently. “Before we can eat. Would you lead?”  
    “Oh.” He looked down again and sighed. “Alright. Uh . . . I thank the Glass-Bearer for the food that Nanil’s grown. I thank them for giving us the Looking Glass Domains, and for letting us meet whomever we meet when they deem it necessary. I thank them for giving me a summer break to come home, with little-to-no homework.” He shrugged. “I’m done. Twins?”  
    “Ooh, ooh, me!’ Dumm stood in her chair. “Okay, I thank the Glass-Bearer for everything he’s―”  
    “They’ve,” Dee corrected.  
    “They’ve done for everybody in this house, because we are awesome, and we deserve some nice thigns! So thank you Glass-Bearer for giving us a big house, and a super-awesome cousin, and a cat, and a friend for that awesome cousin, and super-duper-awesome grandparents!” She grinned wider and sat down. “Okay, I’m done.”  
    “Well,” Dee said, sounding thoughtful. “I thank the Glass-Bearer for giving Lyndon and Pax a break in school. I thank# them for giving us a home, and for letting us stay with Nanil and Gigi, and for letting me learn things every day.” She unfolded her hands and looked over to Gigi. “Your turn.”  
    “I thank the Glass-Bearer for coffee in all its forms,” Gigi said promptly, and smacked his hand down. “That’s it.” He turned to Nanil with a proud grin. “And you?”  
    “Mmm,” Nanil said, shaking her head at Gigi’s incredibly short thanks. “Well. I thank them for gardens, for lovely grandchildren, for my husband, and for my daughter prying the stick out of her―”  
    “Nanil!” Dumm exclaimed, shocked.  
    “Oh, very well,” Nanil amended. “I thak the Glass-Bearer for shoving some sense into my daughter’s head, then, to let go of my grandson. Better?”  
    “I guess,” Dumm said doubtfully. She brightened as she turned to Pax. “What about you, you can give thanks!”  
    “I, uh,” Pax blinked. “Don’t actually know what you’re talking about. Who’s the Glass-Bearer, if you don’t mind me asking?”  
    “the Glass-bearer is a genderless deity that brought us to life,” Lyndon answered. “They saw that humans were suffering of Nightmares, Jabberwocky, and decided that we would be their salvation.” He made a face. “It turned out differently than their intention, but that’s who the Glass-Bearer is. Our equivalent to the Christian God, pretty much. Maybe.” He shrugged. “Not quite the same level of worship, but I think it’s close enough.”  
    “Oh,” Pax said, blinking. “Um. Then . . . I thank the Glass-Bearer for . . .” He glacned around for inspiration. “Everything good, I guess.” He shrugged, looking uncomfortable.  
    Nanil nodded. “That’s fine,” she said smiling. “Now, then, if someone would find the imps, we can eat!”  
    Lyndon choked on his milk, prompting concerned looks. “I’ll get ‘em,” he said when he’d recovered. “I think tehy might be lost outside.” Then he stood and booked it outta there before Nanil’s darkening look could grow into something else.  
  
_Ah, the disgraced son returns,_ Bishop mocked. _What, were you sent out for detention?_  
    “Shut up, you,” Lyndon said. “Do you know where Esmund and Kaolin are, Rook?”  
    She sniffed. _Eh. Out somair in their poofy space. Does―_  
     _Why? They in trouble?_ Her brother interrupted, his voice taking on a gleeful tone. _Did they get themselves in trouble? I bet they got in trouble._  
    “What?” Lyndon glared. “No. Nanil wants you all inside.”  
     _Oh._ Bishop sounded disappointed. But then he looked up again and said, _I told you,_ sighing dramatically. _I told you we weren’t supposed to be out here._  
     _I thought I told him that,_ Rook intervened, swooping past them both. _Anyway, I’ll meet you two inside ― I ain’t lookin’ foward to the missus’ wrath._  
    The remaining imp and human exchanged alarmed glances and followed the female imp back into the house, bickering along the way.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
“No, see, the wobbly-buffs have to go here!” Dumm told Pax earnestly, pointing to the great swaths of drop-cloth they had on the floor. Paint covered the twins’ hands and clothes, flecks of it spattering their faces. “If the wobbly-buffs go with the Burbbles, then they’ll all argue and nothing will get done by anybody. See?” There was a crackling of paper as she moved the paint bottle and started painting the wobbly-buffs ― which looked like balls of fur with very muscly arms growing out of their sides and very wide gogly eyes in the middle, like they were shocked at their shapes ― on the planet Pax had dubbed “Christel.” The Burbbles were situated on a plante the twins had given Pax the honor of naming, and after a minute or so of deliberation, he’d decided on Tweedle.  
    “They can’t go on Christel, either,” Dee argued. “There aren’t enough resources for them to feed their livestock. She blobbed a space ship on top of the green planet with a bridge leading down for the wobbly-buffs to get on. “We need a new planet for them ― Lyndon?”  
    Lyndon, who was in charge of making the planets and creatures’ designs, looked up from his corner of the ginormous paper. “There’s a planet over here that should be good,” he said. “Just what the Gibsher need to get through the winter.”  
    “There’s _winter!”_ Dumm gasped in delight, jumping and racing to Lyndon’s part. “Ooh, is the snow ochre? Can we make the snow ochre? Oh, or maybe navy blue!”  
    “Which shade of ochre, though?” Dee said practically. “There’s a few shades of it.” They both paused and looked at each other, then shrugged.  
    “Both,” they said in agreement. Dee looked back down and finished colonizing the Tweedle planet with Burbbles and their various pets.  
    It was maybe an hour or so after breakfast, the imps and Lyndon having come back in to Nanil glowering at them and reminding them they weren’t to be out in the garden. The darker imp ― Bishop, maybe, Pax wasn’t sure ― had started to say something, but he;d been ignored in favor of the rush for food. Lin and Ezzie had wisely decided to keep their figurative mouths shut around Nanil. After everyone had finished and they’d said thanks again, Gigi had announced his leaving for a writing club and Nanil had asked the imps to come with her into town for things (she hadn’t specified what the “things” were, exactly, so they were all left wondering). The twins, after maybe half an hour or so of laying around and waiting for Pax and Lyndon to be done reading ― Pax was really taken with their grandparents’ library ― decided they’d had enough and dragged them both off to paint. Lyndon had provided a soundtrack of Stan Rogers albums, singing along to many of them. It was nice to see him be so unguarded; to just . . . be.  
    Lyndon glanced up, and Pax flushed as he realized he’d been staring. He looked away quickly, gaze darting back down to the paper in front of him and trying to pay attention to what Dee was telling him. When he glanced up again, Lyndon was smiling at Dumm and nodding.  
    “Hey, Pax!” Dumm threw a paintbrush at him. “We need a ship for the Biffysnicks. They’re migrating from planet to planet, but their ship’s broken down and they have to build a new one!”  
    Shaking his head, Pax grinned and picked up the fallen paintbrush. It still had traces of dark blue on the metal part, though the rest of the paint had been washed off for him. “Where’s their ship again?”  
  
“No, no, it’s alright. I insist you two go outside!”  
    “But ― that’s where your garden is.” Pax glanced back uncertainly where Nanil and the twins were pushing him and Lyndon enthusiastically. “Aren’t we not supposed to be there?”  
    “It’s fine!” Nanil dismissed. “Besides, you went out there to weed, didn’t you? Lyndon can show you where all the best parts are ― introduce you to Flufferboi, too!”  
    “I’m perfectly fine with staying inside and painting more, actually,” Lyndon said, looking a little panicked. Pax swallowed; whatever this Flufferboi was, he was pretty sure he didn’t want to meet it if it made Lyndon freak out. Nanil was having none of Lyndon’s hesitance, though.  
    “I absolutely insist,” she said firmly, and with one final push, they were both out the door. “Have fun, and don’t forget to talk to Fluffers!” She slammed the door in their faces.  
    They both stared at the door, Pax incredulously and Lyndon in resignation. Lyndon sighed and shoved his hands into the pockets of his cardigan, which he’d managed to grab before everyone started pushing. “Alright.” Pax glanced over. “Let’s go meet Flufferboi.”  
    The way he said “Flufferboi” made it sound like they were signing their own death warrants. That did not make Pax feel any better about the whole ordeal. If anything, it might have made it worse.  
    “Is Flufferboi . . . bad?” He questioned.  
    Lyndon glanced over, surprised, and burst out laughing. “No,” he snickered when he’d recovered. “Heh, no, Fluffers is pretty good as big dogs go.” He sobered, tugging at Pax’s sleeve to follow him. “Come on. She’s probably with her puppies.”  
    Pax, confused to no end, followed him with a sense of trepidation settling in his stomach. “Okay,” he muttered to himself. “Let’s go meet Flufferboi.”  
    Lyndon led along much the same path as before, the one they’d used when Nanil had sent them out to weed her squash garden. It was well-worn, beaten and obviously used a lot. Flowers grew along the sides of it, bobbing their bright faces at him, and bits of grass peeked out between the blooms. Pax had to repress the urge to sneeze many, many times. Then Lyndon turned to a path that seemed much less used, with more weeds being allowed to grow freely and more bushes showing up. It was darker, too, as if the light itself knew this was a trail Lyndon didn’t like.#  
    Speaking of Lyndon, he rarely looke back to make sure Pax was indeed following him. Pax didn’t have much choice at this point, considering he had no diea how to get out. Lyndon’s hands were still shoved deep inside his pockets, his shoulders hunched over like he was waiting for someone to smack him, and his steps were slow and measured where usually they were long, overbearing strides, like he was trying to get there as slowly as possible. Trees had started creeping in on them, the space between them growing smaller and smaller until the light overhead fought to get in through the leaves.  
    “Lyndon?” Pax ventured hesitantly after a few minutes of silence. “Uh, are we any closer?”  
    “Yeah,” Lyndon tossed over his shoulder. He didn’t say anything else, just kept walking.  
    “Alright,” Pax muttered under his breath. “Good talk.” He hurried to catch up with the other teen, having fallen behind.  
    Eventually they came to a small clearing with a little cottage inside, the circle of light spotlighting it. Pax raised an eyebrow.  
    “This is it,” Lyndon mumbled. “Flufferboi’s house.”  
    “It’s so small, though,” Pax said disbelievingly. “You said she was a big dog. That could barely fit a toddler.”  
    Lyndon gave him a knowing smirk. “Come on.” He knelt and crawled in through the door, laving his shoes just outside. As soon as his shoulders had fit through, there was a sucking noise like a vaccuum and Lyndon disappeared through the door. Pax gaped. Then the door opened again and a hand ― presumably Lyndon’s, though he shuddered to think who else it might belong to ― waved at him to come in. Pax could have sworn he heard someone say “don’t be such a baby” along with the motion.  
    He swallowed and knelt himself, crawling through. The same sucking noise as before thundered in his ears, still sounding like a vaccuum, and Pax yelped as he was practically shoved through the ― tunnel? It felt like a tunnel. He tumbled out face-first into a carpet, giving his hands rug burn as he threw them in front of himself to soften his fall.  
    “It gets less disorienting after the third time or so,” Lyndon’s voice said. His hand hovered near Pax’s face. Lyndon pulled Pax to his feet, brushing off some dirt from his clothes. Then he swept a hand in front of them. “Welcome to Flufferboi’s house.”  
    A deep bark reverberated through Pax’s bones ad left him clutching at the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep saying "comments are love" in the hopes that someone will say something, but no one's given me any love yet . . . TTvTT
> 
> Anyway, as always, comments are love!

**Author's Note:**

> WAH. WHY AM I NOT SLEEPING. IT IS AFTER MIDNIGHT WHERE I AM.
> 
> HERE, HAVE THIS. I PROMISE IT'LL GET BETTER.
> 
> . . . . Eventually.
> 
> I'M REALLY CALM ABOUT THIS GUYS CAN'T YOU TELL I'M PERFECTLY ALRIGHT. NO ONE IS PANICKING IN MIND PALACES OR ANYTHING.
> 
> . . . *ahem* Comments are love!


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